We've Talked About This
by jouissance
Summary: My take on all the OutlawQueen conversations that annoyingly happened off screen. One Shots in the order that they pop into my head. OQ, Hood-Mills family, Regal Believer, Dimples Queen
1. Our Child

_Mistakes are mine, characters are not. If you like what you see follow along for more and if you're feeling exceptionally generous leave a review. Best!_

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"You're joking, right?" Regina's voice was a little too loud in the sterile hospital nursery. The yet to be named pink bundle stirred slightly in her arms, but didn't wake.

It was only a few weeks ago that Regina had burst through his apartment door. They were supposed to have had more time to figure this out; a longer incubation to see if this family could work. Except looking at her now, watching the way she's looking at the child held safely in her arms, he knows that somehow this was meant to be.

"You cannot even be considering letting Zelena anywhere near this child!" her harsh whisper affected him more than her shouts, but what hurt him the most was the pain her eyes. "Robin? After what she did?" Regina still couldn't wrap her head around the extremes her sister had gone through to hurt her, or how much Robin had suffered simply for loving her. She didn't deserve to live let alone raise this child and she couldn't fathom what had gotten into Robin's head.

"I know it doesn't make any sense. I'm not even sure I can explain it." He scrubs his hands over his face then cradles his daughter's tiny head. "I just want to be able to tell her that we tried to give her mother the second chance that we got: to be better. Zelena _is_ her mother," Robin regrets his words as soon as they're out. His heart breaking for the pain he keeps inevitably causing the woman he loves. "As much as I wish she weren't," he adds quickly, watching her soften.

"Biology doesn't make you a good mother," she tries to sound angry, but her voice is thick with unshed tears and shakes far more than she'd like.

"Certainly not. You're the best example of that Regina. Henry _and_ Roland would both agree." He steps closer so he can rest his free hand against her cheek, thumb caressing as fingers slip into her hair. "And so will she," he whispers, letting his forehead drop against hers.

She won't look at him; can't take her eyes off the child sleeping peacefully in her arms. But she feels him; feels him sharing her gaze at the life that should have been theirs alone to share. "Maybe biology gives you a chance to try," she finally admits. She thinks about Henry, about how he saved her by keeping her up all night, ruining her clothes, and disrupting every aspect of her well organized life. Of Emma and how she turned out to be good for both of them. She still didn't think there could be any redemption for her sister, but 15 years ago she didn't believe there could be any redemption for herself. "We have to be there. She will _not_ be alone with her. I will _not_ give her the opportunity to disappear back to her emerald monkey house with our daughter."

Robin's face pulls into a wide smile. She can see the dimples form out of the corner of her eye. "What?" she asks, finally looking at him.

He pulls her as close as he can with the baby between them. "You said 'our daughter.' Not your daughter or the baby."

She returns his smile with her own; its infections. She can feel the lines pulling at eyes and lips, but could care less. She's never smiled as much as she has since she's met this man. "I told you I'm in. It's a lot sooner than I was expecting, but that doesn't change anything. I love you. I love our children. And if you want to give Zelena a _very_ restricted chance to be a part of her life…" She takes a deep breath before pushing on. "Then I will try not to kill my sister."

"That's as much as I'll ever ask." They walk to the door. He picks up the bag, the car seat, and all the other strange contraptions that accompany infants in this world. She'll have to show him these things: plastic diapers, powdered food, he had none of them with Roland and no time to learn. Again, he's hit with the realization that he can't do this without her and how unfair this all is. "Regina, I'm so sor…"

"Don't you dare," she turns quickly, meeting him in the middle of the room and hefting the diaper bag to her shoulder with the practiced ease of a mother. Don't you dare apologize for _this_." She shifts the subtle weight of their child to one arm and moves her hand to rest over his heart. "She's perfect; she's the best thing that could have come out of this horribly messed up situation, and she is loved. Everything else we will figure out as we go."

This is his family, his life and his love. Robin tries to think of something to say, but there is only one thing to be said. "I think it's time for her to meet her brothers."

 **Thoughts?**


	2. My Price

_Hello lovelies. Thank you so much for the reviews! Truly made me smile inappropriately at work. This one is post Camelot Ball. Enjoy. Thanks again. :)_

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 **My Price**

She's been watching him sleep for hours, lying beside him on the bed they share in Camelot. He was conscious for a while after Emma's magic healed him, but eventually the strain on his body won out. He crumpled against her half way back to their room and she had to use her magic to get them the rest of the way here. At least she could manage that after the mess she made today. She should never have let the Charmings talk her into going to that stupid ball in the first place. Percival could have just as easily stabber her on her way to breakfast.

But then there was that dance and the way he looked at her as she stood, trembling at the top of the staircase, the way he kissed her breathless and made her forget the choreography David had forced into her limbs. It was the happiest and most carefree she had been in a long time. Of course she should have expected it to all come crashing down. Was it only a few hours ago?

She's bone tired, but she can't close her eyes. Regina won't look away from his face because she can only see the pain and the fear that covered it hours ago when she was on her knees begging all the gods in all the realms not to take him from her, begging Emma to save him. He's peaceful now, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm, features relaxed, but he almost died today; paid her price for the monster she was a lifetime ago.

"Why did you do that?" she whispers as she runs her fingers continuously through his hair. It's longer than it was the last time she'd done this. Their time apart combined with the endless obstacles since she'd gotten him back, had hardly allowed them time to just be. She can't shake the rational that the only reason they have this moment's peace was because he was still too weak to move. "You should have let me die."

"Not going to happen," his graveled voice is music to her ears. It's one more reassurance that he's still with her.

"You're supposed to be sleeping," she tells him. An order he blatantly ignores.

"I'm resting," his eyes stay shut as he reaches out to the side of the bed she doesn't occupy. The place his son has claimed as his own in the oversized bed. "Where's Roland?"

"With Snow. He got bored watching you sleep and he's fascinated with Neal." There's a second where she thinks that she should have kept Roland with his father, that maybe he doesn't trust his son in the hands of a monster who sneered at a little boy. "I hope that's okay."

"Of course." It's the uncertainty of her voice that has him opening his eyes. They're deep, shining blue and she's not sure she's ever truly appreciated the gradient of color in them. "He adores the baby. Almost as much as he adores you." When she doesn't react to his words Robin turns on the bed and takes her in. Her hair hangs loosely around her shoulders, makeup streaked and wiped away, gown exchanged for a simple slip wrinkled from where she'd been lying next to him. "You're exhausted."

From anyone else it would have been an insult that got them thrown in the dungeon or killed on site. From him, it's just a simple observation; an expression of his concern. "I'm fine," she assures him through half opened eyes and she knows he's not convinced.

"Come here." He tries to pull her toward him but she resists, leaning slightly away. Robin knows she blames herself, that denying him is some form of punishment she's enacting. What she doesn't realize is that she's punishing him as well. He just wants to hold her.

"I'm fine," she says again, less convincingly then the first time. "You need to rest. You lost a lot of blood." Her eyes dart to her discarded gown and the deep red stains that cover it. He watches her eyes and her struggle to keep them from tearing that she's bound to lose.

"Regina!" It takes three calls of her name and a hand locked around her wrist for her to finally turn to him. " _I'm_ fine. Come here." She watches him a moment longer, judging his condition. Deciding he probably looks better than she does right now, Regina finally relents and Robin pulls her to him with little effort.

She curls into his side and tucks her face into his neck. He shifts so he can wrap his arms securely around her and for a time they are just holding and held; Each trying to process how close they had come to losing the other today. Regina's hand eventually moves from his chest to cover the healing wound. She can feel the energy pulsing there, still working inside to heal what Percival's cursed blade had destroyed.

"It tingles," he muses to the top of her head as he covers her hand with his own. Blissfully, Robin doesn't remember much of tonight's events. He knows he scuffled with Percival and met the man's blade, but how he ended up on the floor bleeding is still all a blur. He remembers watching her shift as she danced with the knight: her smile gone, her posture on guard. And then she's crying over him, he was lifted and pulled, Emma's magic burning through him and then her face again. Her lips. He knows he scared her today, more than she'll ever admit, but he would do it a thousand times over.

Regina doesn't know what to say. Everything just feels empty and not nearly enough. She's furious with him for being so reckless with his life, grateful that he saved hers, terrified that she almost lost him, but more than anything she's angry with herself for not being strong enough to let him go. He'd be better off without her, safer. His children would grow up with their father instead of his memory. But her mother was right: love is weakness. And now that she's found it she knows she'll never be able to let it go. "I need you," she finally says and feels stronger for being able to admit it.

"You have me. I'm not going anywhere, Regina." He pulls their hands up from his wound and rests them against his chest.

"You can't do that again." She hums into his chest. Her eyes have finally closed and if he keeps threading his fingers through her hair like that she knows she won't last much longer.

"We'll argue about that the next time your life is in danger." He knows she's close to sleep so tries to keep the conversation to a minimum.

"It'll happen again," she says matter-of-factly. "I'm no saint, Robin. I have no shortage of past sins."

"And I'm no avenging angel, Regina, but I won't sit idly by and let someone hurt you. I don't care what you've done in the past. It's past. You're no longer that person." He knows she's right, or course. Many of the people from Storybrooke had long ago forgiven her, but the people of this realm only know the Evil Queen. They've never met Regina. Robin drops his hand to her shoulder, squeezing enough to bring her out of the half sleep he's lulled her into. "Look at me." She notices the shift in his voice, it's a tone he rarely uses and never with her. Regina reluctantly rises to her elbows so that she hovers inches above his face and braces for what she's sure is going to break her heart. "I am never going to stop protecting you or worrying about you; I am never going hurt you; I am never going to leave you again."

She kisses the exposed skin at his neck, tastes the sweat, the blood, and the remnants of the dark magic that brought him back to her. "Okay." He's a man of honor, of his word, and she trusts him fully. "Are you really fine?" The concern is back, but the guilt has somewhat abated.

"I'm really fine," he assures her again. "Bloody tired, but fine."

"Sleep." She settles back into him, fitting perfectly to his body like pieces of a puzzle, and his hand returns instinctively to her hair.

"Regina," he says softly. She's on the edge of sleep as she feels the vibrations of it against her cheek and she _hmmm's_ in response. "I need you too." Robin pulls her hand to his lips and kisses her palm. She's asleep before he returns their hands to his heart, a smile pulling at her lips.

 **more thoughts?**


	3. Her Confession

**Hello lovelies! Thank you so much for all the reviews and support for this series. Its been awesome. I tried to answer everyone, but if I didn't get back to you, You rock and you made my day! I'm sorry this update took so long, but holidays and life you know? I rewrote the ending of this one 4 times and I'm still not happy, but I feel its time to move on. Next one should come sooner. Best!**

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Her Confession

They're pressed hip to hip on her couch. Their couch now, he supposes. Although they haven't made anything official, he hasn't spent a night away from her since they got back from New York. His arm is draped over her shoulders, fingers toying with the ends of her hair. He can't stop touching her, refuses to go more than a few seconds without a hand cupping her elbow, a shoulder brushed against hers, assurances to them both that he's here and he's staying.

Roland is a ball of dinosaur pajamas and messy curls in her lap, snoring softly into her neck. He's been as possessive of her as his father, more so since they told him the baby was coming. Although the boy's only questions had been about where their new addition was going to sleep and whether or not he was going to have to share his ice cream, Robin noticed the subtle change in his son.

For her part, Regina doesn't seem to mind the added attention. She runs her fingers though Roland's curls, soothing the dream that begins to stir him against her. "I missed him," she whispered as she drops a kiss to the top of Roland's head, "as much as I missed you."

"When we were in New York," he begins, careful not to say Zelena's name. "He would call out for you in the middle of the night. Nothing would comfort him. Marian…I mean Zelena, I…she..." He's failing miserably, tripping over words and backing himself into a corner until her lips press against his cheek and he realizes that it doesn't matter. "He wanted his mother; he wanted you." She smiles at that, eyes moistening at his confession, but it's still there: that pain she tries to hide and the betrayal she tries not to feel. "I wish to Gods it was you." Robin kisses her temple as he pulls her closer to him. "You have to know, Regina, that I wish this was all happening with you."

"It can't." The words are out before she thought them. Had she even meant to tell him? Certainly not like this. Regina can feel him looking at her, waiting for her to elaborate, push him away, scream; anything but the silence and the tremble running through her. She hugs Roland tighter to her chest, shifting so that his legs lay across his father's lap.

"Regina, you can tell me anything. You know that. Anything at all." His voice is soft, calm, the same tone that always brought her back to her senses; grounded her.

She _can_ tell him anything. She knows she can, has told him practically everything about her past already and she knows she should have told him this long ago: Back in the Enchanted Forest, back when she'd first fallen helplessly in love. "I can't have children of my own."

All the air leaves Robin's lungs. He knew he'd hurt her when he'd refused to abandon Zelena, but this… He'd been parading Zelena's pregnancy in front of her, involving her in every minute detail and all the time rubbing her face in something she'd never have. Her words from the bar hit him full force: "something you and I can never have." Could he be more of a bastard?

She feels him go rigid beside her, the hand that was rubbing her shoulder now grips the back of the sofa and he's staring hard at the coffee table. She slides the hand that's not holding Roland down his thigh and squeezes his knee. They stay like, just still, both breathing deeply and taking in the truth she just laid bare.

"I'm sorry," his voice is soft, but it fills the quiet room. Eventually he takes her hand in his and returns the other to her shoulder. She lets her head rest against his bicep.

"I did it to myself," she admits. "It was a lifetime ago; a rash decision to stop my mother from getting an heir. I thought my life was over. I knew that I would never love again, that no one would love me. I knew I'd never find the man with the lion tattoo." She slides her hand up his arm, pulling his sleeve with it, and traces the pattern of the design she revealed. "Turns out I really didn't know anything."

He turns to her and she's smiling. They're nose to nose and he's trying desperately to come up with something to say as Roland picked the perfect moment for a full bodied stretch, kicking his father sharply in the ribs and forcing Regina to shoot her arms out to keep him from rolling off of her lap. "I think it's time for someone to go to bed," Robin laughs and takes him from Regina's arms, disappearing upstairs.

Roland has his own place here: a perfect little room littered toys from Henry's youth and the same strange creatures that decorate his pajamas. There's a tent in the corner that Regina created one night after Roland had a nightmare that her arms couldn't soothe. It's a smaller, yet precise replica of the one father and son shared in Sherwood Forest and they have all three slept under it, curled against each other on the floor of the child's bedroom for a week straight. Robin had never been happier.

He lays the boy in his bed and pulls the covers up around him. Roland stirs and reaches out instinctively for the stuffed toy that crossed realms with him. Robin cringes when he realizes it was left downstairs. "Looking for this, Theif?" her voice is thick with feigned sarcasm as she saunters over to the bed and tucks the animal into the boys waiting arms. "I fell in love with him much faster than I did you, you know." She turned to Robin with a smirk on her face.

"Of that, Milady, I have no doubt." Robin says standing and kissing her cheek. She slips past him and into Roland's tent patting the cushion next to her. The conversation had paused, but she's not going to let it pass. Its only seconds before Robin's crawling in after her and settling, once again, with an arm around her shoulder and a hand in her hair.

"I should have told you sooner," she whispers as he tucks her hair behind her ear and traces her jaw with his thumb.

"It doesn't matter. I'm so sorry you felt you had to do that to yourself, Regina, but it doesn't matter. "You've Henry, Roland, me…" he flashes the dimples that he knows she can't resist and is answered with her own wide smile. "We all love you, Milady. And this baby will love you as we do. You're a mother. I knew that from the moment I saw you and I'm more sure every moment that there is no one else I would want raising _our_ children." His breath shudders out against her face. He's shaking, but he had to get it all out.

"Thank you," she wipes at the tears working their way down his cheeks. "I am a mother, a damn good one. Just one that shares her children with other mothers and that's okay. Henry is also Emma's; I don't want Roland to forget Marian; and your daughter, _our_ daughter, will always be part of Zelena." Her eyes drop to their joined hands. She can feel Robin turn his head up and away from her like he always does when he thinks he's failed her. He's staring intently at the glow in the dark stars and she has to pull his face back to her so she can finish. "But, they're mine too," she says unequivocally, "and I love them _all_ more than I ever thought possible."

"I love you." Robin kisses the top of her head before scooting down into the cushions.

"I know," she lies against his chest letting her body rise and fall with his breath. "Eventually, we are going to have to stop sleeping in here."

"Not tonight," he shifts so he can pull a blanket over her. They both laugh as a loud _Shhhh_ comes from outside the canvas walls. They whisper apologies to Roland and she curls tighter into his arms.

"No, not tonight."


	4. The Family

**_Thank you again for the reviews and a special shout out to Cat for planting this idea in my head. Although it took a different turn, I hope you enjoy the Regina and little peanut moments._**

The nursery had been an afterthought, something they still had months to plan once they got the darkness out of Emma, figured out what happened in Camelot, and came to terms with the fact that they were adding a new addition to a family they were still trying to figure out. Zelena's accelerated delivery had thrown a wrench in their plans, and to be honest, had Regina rattled.

She'd left Robin at the hospital and returned home with bags of diapers, formula, and other essentials she grabbed off the market shelves, ready to drag Henry's crib down from the attic and throw together something that may not be fit for a princess, but would do for now. She would use the room closest to hers (theirs, she corrected herself). It was small, but it was close for 4 am feedings and far enough from the boys as not to disturb or be disturbed. Roland had taken up residence in the room across from Henry's at the other end of the hall. The boys would toss thing back and forth and 'whisper' well into the night. The numerous empty rooms in the mayoral mansion were quickly filling up.

Regina didn't stop once since getting out of the car; she used her magic to open and close the front door and headed straight for the would be nursery. She was vibrating with nervous energy, pent up insecurities. She couldn't stop moving because she didn't trust herself to feel everything that was threatening to come to the surface. So she pushed it back and pushed on. That is until she rounded the corner and stopped so fast she stumbled the rest of the way into the not so empty nursery.

Snow was at the center, hanging a unicorn mobile over Henry's old crib with baby Neal chattering and pulling toys out of the box at her feet. There was a cushioned rocking chair in the corner, a small dresser cluttered with bags of clothes, blankets, and bottles yet to be put away. Regina let her bags drop and just stared open mouthed at the site before her. "Regina!" Snow turned at the sounds of the bags hitting the floor. "I have so much stuff that Neal will never use or has already outgrown and I really needed something to take my mind off of Emma," the princess explained as she plucked a white teddy bear out of her son's hand and placed it in the crib. "I hope you don't mind. You might want to add some more pink down the road, but…Regina?"

The queen hadn't moved, hadn't closed her mouth and Snow wasn't sure if she had even blinked. Despite all the two woman had been through in the last few years, the secrets revealed, wounds healed, and sins forgiven, she still walked a tightrope with Regina at times and was beginning to think her good intentions had crossed their ever moving line. "I'm sorry," Snow stammered. "I can take it out. I'm sure you and Robin wanted to do something different. I shouldn't have…"

The sound Regina made was somewhere between a laugh and a sob, cutting off anything else Snow was about to say. "It's perfect," she whispered, taking unsteady steps toward her former nemesis. "It's absolutely perfect." Snow wrapped her arms around Regina, pulling her close and holding tight.

"It's okay if you're not ready for this, Regina. You will be," Snow assured her.

That was all it took for the composure Regina had been fighting so hard to hold on to slip through her fingers. She looked around the room again; it really was perfect. Everything was ready. Everything, but her. She sagged into Snow, allowing herself this one moment to bury her face and cry herself dry. Snow just held on until the older woman's sobs turned to the occasional sniff and her violent shaking subsided. She knew more than anything that Regina hated showing weakness to the world so she did her best not to see.

It was Neal that eventually snapped Regina out of it with tiny hands pulling himself up by the hem of her skirt. He rocked back and forth, swatting at her knees until Regina bent and scooped him into her arms. "You're going to be running around this town any day now, aren't you little Charming?"

"He's grown so fast," Snow untangled her son's tiny fist from Regina's hair then began unpacking the bags Regina abandoned at the door.

"Thank you, Snow. For all of this," Regina swept the arm not holding the squirming child.

"We're family, Regina. Besides, it'll be nice for Neal to grow up with his…" she paused, going over their complicated family tree in her head. "Step sister? But I suppose she'd be my step-sister so Neal's Aunt?" Both women laughed outright at the absurdity of it all. "Family," Snow said confidently.

"Family," Regina agreed, handing Neal back over to his mother and turning once again to take in all of Snow's hard work.

"We'll leave you to get acquainted with your new surroundings. Robin should be back soon?"

"Yes," Regina looked at the flower shaped clock on the wall, realizing just how much time had passed since she left the hospital. "Any minute actually."

"You're a natural mother, Regina, always have been. This little girl is lucky to have you." Snow was out the door before Regina could thank her, again. She sank into the rocking chair and let her eyes fall closed. Snow was right: she was a mother, and she was ready to do this again. Any uncertainty had to be shoved aside; there was no time for it. What's done was done. The baby was here and nothing would stop Regina from giving her her best chance.

Regina laughed out loud. When had she started internally quoting the Charmings? Probably the moment she started calling them family and meaning it. She was still smiling when Robin walked wide-eyed into the nursery with a tiny pink bundle in his arms.

A week ago she never thought she'd be here, hell a few hours ago. She was still processing the fact that Zelena was pregnant, that this little girl eagerly sucking down her bottle was going to be in her life and now she's up at 4 in the morning, had also been up at 3 and 2, and she didn't mind one bit.

She has her father's eyes, thank the Gods for it. She could definitely stare into those baby blues without any reservation. Her hair is barley there, a soft swirl on top of her head. It's not Regina's raven locks, but it's not her sister's fiery auburn either. Somewhere in between: a dark chestnut that hints scarlet at the ends when she rocks just the right way toward the night light in the corner. "You are so loved, little one," she whispers as her daughter squeaks at the absence of milk at her tiny lips. "And I know you didn't ask for any of this mess that you were brought into. And I am so sorry. But, I _promise_ I will keep you safe, and I will make you happy, and no one will ever take you away. We're family." She stared down until those tiny blue eyes closed, until warm arms and a full belly lulled her back to sleep.

"I love you," Robin's voice caught her attention and she opened her eyes to find him leaning in the door way. "Want me to take over?" he walked toward her, softly as possible and dropped a kiss to the top of her head.

"We're good," Regina smiled as Robin settled on his knees before her, fingers coasting over his daughters head.

"We never really got the chance to talk about this." Robin's eyes were still fixed on the baby. He could feel Regina watching him watch her and realized that he probably should have thought of something say before saying that out loud.

Regina ran her fingers through his hair. "I love you," she said sleepily. "I love her. There's really nothing else we need to talk about." When Robin met her eyes, his were filled with tears she casually wiped away with her thumb. "We're good."


	5. His Heartbeats

**Thank you all for the amazing reviews! Love you to bits! I haven't seen a lot from Robin's POV so I thought I'd give it a whirl and I'm pretty happy with it. Set sometime after Robin comes back and before the trip to Camelot.**

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 _This is his favorite time of day. The apartment is flooded with sunlight, not the harsh artificial lighting of this city that never sleeps. She's still asleep beside him. He finds it odd that she can so easily sleep through noises so foreign to them both, but the car horns, trains, and general hustle and bustle of the city have become her lullaby. She's beautiful like this, dark hair haloed out around, covering his arm, her hand snaked up under his tank and resting against his chest. He kisses her forehead and smiles as she predictably turns up toward him presenting her lips in a playful pucker. Of course she'd been awake the entire time he'd been watching her._

 _Never one to deny her, Robin kisses those lips and shifts his weight so that he hovers over her. "Roland is still asleep," he whispers into her hair, kissing his way down her jaw, her neck. The hand under his shirts snakes lower and lower. "Regina," he moans into her neck._

 _"Not Regina, darling, but that's not who you should be thinking of when your laying with your wife."_

 _Robin's eyes snap open, Marian lies beneath him but her eyes aren't her own and the grin on her face is nothing short of wicked. "I've finally taken everything from her and I owe it all to you." Marian fingers the pendant at her chest, revealing the witch behind the guise. "Now I have the one thing she never will." Her hand slides down to cover her abdomen possessively and she cackles as Robin backs away in horror._

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Regina woke to his fingers digging painfully into her side. It wasn't the first time his nightmares had startled her awake, not the first time she would rise before him to heal bruises he would never forgive himself for making. He'd promised long ago to never hurt her and she'd promised to never let him know that he had. "Robin, wake up." She smoothed her hand over his chest and propped herself up to place a gentle kiss against his jaw. He'd been back from New York for weeks now, had shared her bed from the moment he returned; her bed, but not her body. She missed the intimacy, but more than understood his hesitation after everything that had transpired during the weeks they'd spent apart. Regina was more than content just being held and falling asleep every night to the steady beat of his heart under her hand.

Except his heartbeat never stayed steady for long. Most nights it didn't last long, he often wouldn't even wake, but she could tell tonight would be one of the few they wouldn't talk about in the morning. He was thrashing now, fighting the blankets wrapped around him. Regina moved a second to slow as his hand latched around her throat, his weight pinning her to the mattress beneath them. "Robin!" she yelled this time, using her magic to turn on the lights and strip twisted blankets from the bed, but he only squeezed tighter, staring down at her but not seeing. She wrapped one hand around his wrist, the other tried to pry his fingers from her neck. "Robin," Regina was wheezing now, fingernails digging into the lion tattooed on his arm. She didn't want to hurt him, but her vision was starting to blur and she needed him to let go before she passed out.

His eyes suddenly focused, the rage across his face turning to panic in an instant when he realized the hand she was clawing at was his own. He released her and crawled away, but Regina held tightly to his wrist so that he was forced to remain on the edge of the bed or pull her to the floor. Regina tried her best not to cough, but it only made it worse. Tears were streaming down her face and she was forced to roll to her side, gasping and gagging until she took in enough air for the world to right itself again. Robin couldn't look away from her. Her knees were pulled up to her chest, curled into herself with her head resting on her forearm.

"I'm fine." She coughed a couple more times and wiped annoyingly at her eyes. "Robin, I'm fine." Her fingers flexed around his arm. She could feel his pulse racing beneath her touch.

"I hurt you. God, Regina, I could have killed you." He scrubbed his free hand over his face and let his head fall. Regina got her legs underneath her and crawled towards him, wrapping both arms around his neck. He didn't move to touch her.

"Robin, please," she whispered, placing soft kisses along his jawline.

"I'm sorry." He reached behind him, unwrapping her arms from his neck and rising form the bed. "I'll go." He didn't know where he was going or what he would do when he got there, but he knew even less how to look Regina in the eye. His hand was on the doorknob when the frame glowed, sealed by her magic.

"No." She dropped her hand and was instantly flooded with guilt. She had promised herself never to use her magic against anyone she loved ever again and she had just imprisoned him in their bedroom.

"Regina, I hurt you," he said to the door. He could hear her moving, heard the bed creak as she sat on the edge just behind him.

"I woke you up. I know better, Robin. And besides, I threw a fireball at you back in the Enchanted Forest. If anything, we're even." She was trying her best to lighten the mood, to get him to relax, but more importantly, to remember.

"That's different."

"How? You woke me up from a nightmare and I lashed out. It didn't stop you from holding me for the rest of the night and practically every night since." She was on her feet, moving towards him. He flinched when her hands rested against his back, but she didn't move away.

"It's different."

"Because you're a man? Don't give me that misogynistic bullshit."

"Because what caused your nightmares wasn't your fault!" He slammed his fist into the door; the spell absorbed the force and the sound, but the confession floated around them, its heavy weight practically tangible.

"How can think any of this is your fault?" She moved her hands slowly up and down his back, every muscle was tight. "She was your wife, Robin. You did what you did with your wife, for your family. Nothing is your fault. Please look at me." She'd forgiven him. He could hear it in her voice, knew he'd see it in her eyes if he'd the courage to meet them. Not just for the accidental bruises, but for everything. He should tell her what plagued his sleep, give her a reason for his distance. He owed her that much, but it wasn't that simple. He didn't know where to begin to tell her what was going on in his head, wasn't sure he even understood it himself. So he stayed where he was, facing the door and praying she would give up and let him avoid this confrontation. He knew her well enough to know they'd die of old age before she gave in.

She gave him one minute, counted the seconds in her head as she rubbed the tense muscles of his back. When he didn't move, she did: slipped around him and wedged herself between his chest and the door. She stretched up to him, toes curling in the carpet for balance as she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down to her. "You know everything I've ever done, everything that has ever been done to me, every cry, every silent scream. You never judged me, you never walked away." She kissed his forehead before it dropped to her shoulder, kissed his neck once his face was buried in her hair. "You stood by my side while I fought my demons. Don't you dare think I'm going to leave you to yours."

Robin's hands remained braced on either side of her head. Bruises matching her fingers were forming across his tattoo. He hated to think about what her neck must look like as he closed his eyes against her shoulder, breathing her in. She smelled like lavender and he tried to let the aroma calm him, focusing on her fingers in his hair, her hand snaking under his shirt and settling in its preferred place over his heart. She wasn't counting the seconds this time, but heartbeats before he finally spoke. "I hated myself for thinking of you. Every time she touched me or I touched her…," his voice was barley a whisper next to her ear, the heat of it warmed her neck. "It was you." He felt his control slipping with every breath that passed between them. Regina hadn't moved except to tighten her hold, silently encouraging him to continue. "I was trying to force a connection that was lost long ago. I wanted to love her for Roland; I wanted so badly for them both to be happy. It should have been easy for us to be a family again…But I was always thinking of you. I missed you so damn much. All I wanted to do was come back to you, to bring Roland back to you, and now that we're here I'm fucking it all up."

He finally broke, arms releasing the door and wrapping around her so suddenly he would have fallen if not for the strength of her holding him together. Sobs wracked his body with such force that hers shook beneath him. "I've got you," she said assuredly into his neck, fingers gripping possessively at his flesh. It wasn't the soothing tones she would use with their children, but a matter of fact statement that had him nodding into her shoulder and wrapping his arms more tightly around her waist. It wasn't long before he'd cried himself out, lifted his head and tried to laugh at the tear soaked corner of her tee shirt. "It's not funny," her voice was soft yet stern. "You haven't _fucked_ anything up, Robin," the vulgar word sounding foreign in her voice, but it served its purpose. He knew she wasn't letting this go just yet.

"Regina, I…"

"You'll listen," she interrupted, unequivocally ending his protest. "You've added a small bump to our road, but that's all. We're here. The boys are here. We're safe—for the moment at least—and Zelena will have to grow accustomed to her new accommodations." Robin's eyes darted away from her for a fraction of a second and Regina realized that she had gotten it all wrong. Yes, he hated Zelena for what she had done, but it was so much more. "Talk to me," she urged once more and again counted his heartbeats.

"It wasn't her. It was never her. Everything that happened from the moment she showed up at the diner, every moment I urged her to spend with _my_ son, with _me._ It never felt right, but I thought it was just because I wanted it to be with you. It was never my Marian. I trusted _her_. I trusted that witch with _everything_!" He was clutching at her again, cursing himself at her sudden wince he felt against his cheek. Gods, why was he always hurting her lately? He eased himself from around her and pushed her gently into the door so that he had enough space to step away. Blessedly she stayed where he left her while he paced the length of their room. He didn't know where to go from here.

"She betrayed everything that hold dear," Regina spoke softly from across the room. Robin was forced to stop moving in order to make out the words. "Your trust, your love for your family, your son, your honor." She let a tear fall when she saw his reaction to the last. "It's not the same, but I know betrayal. I know what it is to be used as a means to an end that you don't want any part of; and I know what it feels like to be so lost that you don't think you ever find your way out."

She's crying openly now, he doesn't have to look at her; there's a thickness and a tremble to her voice. She has been in this place he's in now, he reminds himself. He helped guide her out of it many a times. "I don't know what to do," he confesses finally sitting on the edge of the bed across from her. "And now there's an innocent child that's being brought into this horrible mess." He holds out his arms and she's in them in an instant, his forehead resting on her stomach, hands on the back of her thighs.

"You stop blaming yourself for something that was done to you, something that you had no part in," she tells him, leaning down enough to plant a kiss on the top of his head. "We can't undo what was done. And it always hurts, but we're not alone. We have each other, and the boys, and the rest of this rag tag family. And this baby is going to have all of us to love them."

"I love you," he stood slowly running his hands up her body as went.

"I know," she smiled into the kiss he placed on her lips.

"I need you," he ran his fingers through her hair as she once again wrapped her arms around his neck.

"You have me. Always. I'm not going anywhere." She expected frantic touches, rough kisses for as raw and ragged as he'd been lately. But she should have known. He ran his fingers over her body with a tenderness that she had only known from him. Pecked softly at the mild harm he'd done to her neck. She didn't bother wiping the tears that slipped from her eyes as he lifted her and placed her on the bed.

There was nothing more that needed to be said.

* * *

 **Thoughts? Opinions? Suggestions? Requests?**


	6. His Promise

**His Promise**

"Thought I'd find you here," Robin gingerly steps his way over broken branches until he's standing behind her. She was sitting on the fallen tree where he'd found her reading her mother's letter. It felt like a lifetime ago with all they had been through since. His hands rest on her shoulders pulling her back slightly so that she leans against him, before rubbing the tension out of her shoulders.

"How did you know I'd be here?" She's quiet, the kind of quiet that scares him because he knows the voices in her mind are screaming.

"This is where you come," he presses a little harder feeling the knot between her shoulders begin to loosen. "Also you weren't at home, your office, or your vault." He waits for the soft laugh, the roll of her eyes, and the chiding of his concern, but they don't come. She's drained; they both are. They're leaving for the Underworld in a matter of hours and today had been chaotic to say the least. It was announced over coffee this morning: Emma was going after Hook. He wasn't surprised, nor was he surprised that Regina was the first to volunteer to go with her. She needed her, Regina had very rationally explained: Emma couldn't very well split her own heart. There troupe had been settled quickly after that: the Charmings weren't going to lose their daughter, Henry wasn't abandoning his mothers and he wasn't about to let Regina walk through hell alone.

They had gone their separate ways after that, all with their own preparations to make and goodbyes to say. But now they're just waiting and thinking and its tearing her apart. "Regina?" he sweeps her hair back, kissing her neck when she doesn't respond to his touch.

"I'm sorry. I'm just…" She shivers under his touch and he lets her hair drop to recover her neck.

"Scared," he finishes for her because he knows she can't admit it; she won't appear weak, especially to herself. "Do you want me to leave?" His hands slide down her arms and back up, squeezing her shoulders on every pass. He has no real intention of leaving her alone right now, but he's not above retreating to a respectable distance that she can't see.

"No," she answers in the same quiet voice, crossing her arms over her chest and reaching to grab his hands and hold them to her. She's resolute in her decision to see this misadventure through, but that hasn't stopped the tremble and the dread running through her. "I hate leaving them," she barely gives breath to the words and Robin doesn't catch them all, but she pulls him closer so that he has to straddle the log to keep from tumbling forward. He pulls her back to his chest, holds her tight while she finds her balance then lets his hands coast over every part of her that he can reach: a slow, gentle pattern that has her relaxing against him and his mind wandering.

* * *

They'd taken Roland and the baby to Tinkerbelle. The fairy being the biggest champion for their relationship had, of course, promised to keep their children safe. It had been impossible to explain to Roland why their new family had to spend some time apart. He had clung to Regina's knees, adamant that they would not be safe without her here. Regina's strength astounded him as she knelt to Roland's height and spoke to him like the man he would someday be. "I need you to be the brave knight for your sister," she told him. "I need you to help Miss Tink take care of her while your father and I help Emma."

The boy's tears dried with his new found responsibility. He placed his small hand on Regina's shoulder and squeezed before turning to his father. Robin also crouched to his level and took in the seriousness on his son's face that he had never seen before. "You need to keep Regina safe," Roland stage whispered into his father's ear as he hugged him goodbye. "You have to keep her safe so she can keep everyone else safe." By the time Robin had recovered enough to stand next to a tear streaked Regina, Roland was already hovering over his baby sister and informing the fairy just how she liked to be held. Robin had no idea when his son had become so brave or so wise, but he knew he wouldn't break the promise he made to him: he would keep Regina safe.

* * *

"There's no way I'm talking you out of this, is there?" Regina feels his arms tighten at her words. It's getting dark, the air cooling, but neither is ready to move just yet.

"None whatsoever." He drops a kiss to her temple.

"What about kidnapping Henry until we're gone?" She laughs, but he knows she's not joking. He doesn't need words to answer, just holds her a bit tighter. "I have no idea what we're going to find there. How am I supposed to keep him safe if I don't know what he's walking into? He's just a child."

"He's not." Robin leans forward so that she's forced to shift. "You've raised him well, Regina. He's been through more and handled it better than most men I've known."

Regina sighs audibly, now sitting across from him, knee to knee, as she picks at the bark between them. "I need you to promise me something," she asks in the same tone she used with Roland. Robin watches her as she looks everywhere but his eyes. He knows what's she's going to ask. Just as he knows he can't refuse her. "You'll get him home, even if it's without me."

He stills her hands with one of his, the other hooks under her chin. He doesn't pull, just leaves his hand there until she meets his eyes on her own. "I'm not leaving that place without you. I promised my son that I would keep you safe," his hand moves to her hair, pulling her close enough to kiss her lips. It's brief, chaste, but needed. "It's a promise I intend to keep."

"I'm the Evil Queen. It's the Underworld. The lives I've destroyed? The people I've killed? There's a very good chance that I'm not going to get out of there; I probably don't deserve to." She's looking past him again, towards the inevitable pain that they're willing walking into.

"Then don't go." His hands are on her biceps, forceful enough to get her attention. He knows it's pointless, they've had this argument before and its one he'll never win. But he'll keep trying nonetheless. "Regina, don't go." Hands slide down her arms to hold her hands before bringing them to his lips.

"I'm the only one that HAS to go!" She pulls her hands away before his lips can make contact and she's up and pacing the clearing around them. "Who's going to split Emma's heart?" she yells to the night. "She saved my life. None of this would have _ever_ happened if she hadn't. I owe her a chance to save his. I owe him a chance to be the man that he's been trying to be since he met her. It's the least I can do after what I've put them through." She's instantly defensive, back to him, arms locked across her chest.

He knows better than to touch her right now, has been a victim of that temper one to many times. But that's it, he thinks, the real reason why she's putting herself through this. She hasn't told him of her past with the pirate, only that he met the monster she used to be and seeing the pain in her eyes, he has never pushed for more. "You can't possibly hold yourself responsible for Rumpelstiltskin's deceit," he voices when she finally stills. "Killian sacrificed himself to save Emma, to save everyone. It was incredibly brave and it was his choice. He knew what he was doing." Robin hates the words coming out of his mouth. The pirate had become a friend in this foreign land and he's abdicating leaving him to an undeserved fate. But he knows the man would understand: Robin can't lose Regina. Hadn't his friend done this all for love?

"But he didn't get to do it. He was a hero and he was robbed of his damned happy ending." Her arms drop to her sides, anger quelled for the moment, replaced by exhaustion and an inevitable acceptance of what she has to do. It's his signal to move. Robin grabs her hand, raises it over her head and spins her into him. It garners the half smile that he's after before she wraps both arms around his neck and lets him "dance" her back and forth in the moonlight. Regina melts in to him, knowing then and there that he's right: she needs him beside her through this, she loves him, weakness be damned. "Promise me," she asks again, breath warm against his neck.

"You already know I will." He kisses her deeply and continues to hold her close. He'll enjoy these last few moments peace before he must decide which promise he will have to break.

 **I think this one might be getting its own very much longer fic (my head is full of horrible Underworld adventures,) but for now it fits well here. What do you think: let it be or continue on to Underworld adventures?**


	7. Their Forever

**I personally refuse to believe any of the horrible rumors of Robin's potential death, but if (very very big IF) it happens, this is all I will accept. Thank you for reading. :)**

* * *

We Have Forever

They're at the docks, finally ready to free themselves from this hell. Henry is secured in the ferry, Snow and the Pirate as well and Regina has his hand in hers leading him down the dock when she feels the resistance. She turns to him, notices instantly the tears forming in his eyes. "I'm not going, Love."

"What are you talking about?" she scoffs. "Of course you're going. Come on!" she pulls at his arm, stomps down the feeling that this is New York all over again. But it isn't. There is no bar they can escape to and talk it out. This is the Underworld. The end. And she is absolutely, under no circumstances, leaving him behind. "Robin!" her voice is getting desperate, angry. He's still not moving and she notices he looks past her to Emma, to David. "What the hell is going on?" she asks the pair behind her, who are both unable to meet her eyes so she turns back to Robin, lets him pull her into his arms. "What's going on?" She's growing frantic, stammering against neck.

"I love you," he tells her. Says is over and over into her hair. Commits the feel of it to memory, the texture, the smell. "I made a deal with Hades. I have to stay." He pushes her away just enough so he can cup her cheeks, wipe his thumb over falling tears, and kiss her forehead. He looks up from her again and Regina feels a hand on her back. They knew, she realizes. Emma and David knew he had done this. She spins around, seething rage and it's the first time Emma has truly seen the evil queen.

The blonde steps back just before Regina's hand can close around her throat and the brunette screams. Raw, violent, sinks to her knees and Robin's arms are around her once again. "No. This isn't happening. I'll stay. Whatever deal you made, I'll stay," she's adamant, nearly hysterical as he pulls her to her feet; he's going to be the one to go home.

"That would defeat the purpose of the deal, Love." He kisses her again, holds her as she tries to pull away. "Take care of them," he whispers, his breath warm against her neck. "Love them."

"Robin," she's sobbing now, shaking violently and he knows its past time for them to go. He never intended to leave her with this tearful goodbye.

"I love you," he says again, gripping her shoulders, resting his forehead to hers one last time before pushing her back into David's arms. She stumbles, but is caught and swept up in Emma's magic before her mind can comprehend that she'll never see him again.

She doesn't remember getting in the ferry. Everything is silent except for the gentle pull of the water and the shuddered cries that she's absently aware are coming from her. It's a sound she's never heard before, a full throated staccato that lacks the energy to turn into a scream. There are arms around her. David's. He's rubbing up and down her trembling form, holding her back tight against his chest. She hates him. Hates that he knew about this, hates that he did nothing to stop Robin from making a deal she still doesn't know about, hates that he didn't warn her, hates that she knows she'll implode if he lets go. She's adrift, everything is wrong. She's not meant to be the one of them that escapes this hell.

There are back in Storybrooke in a matter of hours. She's quiet now, still leaning into the prince as he helps her out of the boat and walks her down the dock on shaking legs. "Do you want me to go with you?" It's the first thing anyone has said since they left. His voice is soft, but it echoes in her ear. She's going straight to Roland and the baby, he knows it before she does.

"No," her voice is weaker than her body and she tries to shake off the feeling. She needs to be strong for him, for them. "I need to see them, but later…later you're going to tell me everything." She shoves half-heartedly against his chest: angry, but exhausted. "You're going to tell me why." She gives in again to the sudden rush of grief; lets David wrap his arms around her long enough for her breathing to even out.

"I will," he promises as she peels herself away. "As for why: he loves you, Regina. It's as simple as that. He wanted you to _live_."

Walking up to Roland was the hardest thing she'd ever done. She didn't even have to tell him that his father didn't come home. Robin not being beside her told the boy everything he needed to know. He threw is small arms around her neck the moment her knees hit the floor and cried himself dry against chest. They cried together, rocked back and forth on the floor of Grannie's diner neither noticing when the matriarch ushered her patrons out the door to give the family some privacy.

Regina hurt. For days, years. She hurt, but she kept her promise. She'd lived. She'd protected his children, hers, theirs from the moment her feet were on solid ground, she had held them and never let them go. She'd raised them well, loved them with everything she had, gave them everything of her and everything of him. They'd grown fast, lived well, loved truly, and now had families of their own. She's a great grandmother now. Roland's granddaughter, Robyn, had just celebrated her first birthday. Regina sees her Robin looking back through his namesakes deep blue eyes.

It has been a good life, a better one than she deserved, but maybe after all this she's finally been redeemed. It's late when she makes her way to her room and settles at the vanity by the bed. She stares at the silver framed picture of Robin and herself that Henry had snapped so long ago. It was one moment of hundreds, but the only one she had a physical memory of. He had been kissing her (upon close inspection her lipstick is smeared). They're both smiling, eyes closed and his fingers disappear into her hair. She puts the picture back and stares at the woman in the mirror. She supposes she still looks good for her age, but she's far from the woman in the red dress. Her hair is gray now, and has been without his gentle caress for almost 50 years. The lines at her eyes are deeper, veins more prominent, and those infuriating spots that even magic won't get rid of mar her once porcelain skin. She wonders, not for the first time, if when they meet again he'll even know her at all.

She takes a moment to look at the other memories that line her walls: Henry's family vacations, Roland's diplomas and various graduations, their daughter's wedding. It's been a good life. She finally climbs into bed on limbs that have grown stiff and tired with age. Cracks and pops until she settles into the pillows. The nights are always better. One would think it just the opposite, that she would miss him more when alone in a bed she still considers theirs than when she's busying her day with the nuances of life, but it's when she's alone she feels that she isn't. She remembers him, closes her eyes and forces the feel of him next to her, the sound of his breathing, the scent of his skin. She talks to him, tells him of their family, the life he's granted her, and hasn't felt absurd for doing it in decades. She misses him tonight. Misses him always, but days like this, days spent surrounded by family for the "special" moments, days that he gave up so she could have, she misses him more.

There are nights she can't seem to find him through the maze of her mind, but tonight he is crystal clear. She can feel the stubble against her thumb as she strokes his cheek, see his dimples deepen as he smiles and raises an eyebrow to her. It's different tonight. She can sense it. Tonight he's more than just a fantasy dreamed up by her lonely heart. She feels his hand in hers, strong and assuring, and lets him lead her into sleep without hesitation.

She doesn't need to open her eyes to know that she's no longer in her bed, no longer in her withering body. She should be panicked, but instead she's overcome with an overwhelming sense of peace. Her knees don't ache; the absence of the constant dull pain is the first thing she notices as she shifts her feet and hears the rustle of leaves beneath them. She inhales deeply with unlabored lungs, the smell of night air and the wafting smoke of a campfire. When her eyes finally open, she knows exactly where she is, and more importantly, where she's going. Her lips stretch into a smile as she tucks her hair behind her ears, toying with the jet black ends of it. She looks down her body and notices that she's wearing the dress she wore when he kissed her in the hallway, when he'd rescued her heart. Of course she is; it was his favorite and one she had never worn again after her return. She walks faster than she has in years, her body younger, stronger, no longer her enemy. She is surefooted and confident in her heals as she makes her way through the familiar forest.

He's there, just as she left him, younger even, less troubled as he pokes at the fire with that tattoo poking out from his sleeve. "Robin," she whispers and her voice is excited and scared and hopeful all at once and she has to force herself to remain where she is, not to jump through the growing fire and into his arms.

His eyes snap up, rake her body then settle on her watering eyes. For a long moment he doesn't move, doesn't even blink. She is as beautiful as he remembered, the image he sees when he closes his eyes: hair long and waiting for his fingers, lips painted the same red as her dress. He stands slowly, still hasn't made a sound. Time is different here, seconds and years blend together, but he knows it's been a good long while since he'd forced her back to the land of the living. It's a convoluted mixture of emotions: he's wanted to see her, to hold her again, but he's fully aware of the circumstances which brought her back here. She's died. And he has innumerable questions of how and when and where and she seems to see them all flicker like the flames in his eyes.

"It was good," she tells him, nodding away his uncertainties with a wide smile that brightens her eyes. "My life was very, _very_ good."

He closes the distance between them in a heartbeat, crashing against her lips and weaving fingers into her hair. She can't contain the choked sobs that vibrate against his lips as she clings to him, inhaling his scent that has faded from memory over so many years, but that she has never completely forgotten. She buries her face into the his neck when he releases her lips, wraps her arms around his back and holds, lets him rock her gently back and forth as his arms rub up and down her back and he kisses her neck, her shoulder, her nose as she turns closer into him.

"Tell me everything." He walks her back to the log he was perched on and she settles, pressed firmly against his hip as he keeps his arm around her shoulders. He has no intention of ever not touching her again and if the way she leans into him is any indication, Regina doesn't mind one bit.

"Everything will take a while," she laughs, kissing his cheek and resting her head against his shoulder as she tries to batten down the pang of guilt that washes over her. Everything. He missed everything.

He feels her tense against him and will have none of it. "Hey," he tips her chin up and pecks at her lips. I haven't regretted it for a moment." She nods, wants to believe him and almost does when she sees the same certainty in his eyes that she saw when he forced her into David's arms and away from him. He let her live his life; all she can give him is her memories. His fingers trail up and down her arms, free hand lacing with hers that rests on his thigh. "What's her name?" he asks. He means it to calm her mind, to give her a place to start, but it only breaks her heart more.

Tears spill from her eyes and she grips his fingers tightly. He doesn't even know her name. They'd tossed a few back and forth when trapped in the Underworld, but had never settled on anything before it was too late. Thank the gods for Roland. "Ella," she turns so she can look into his eyes. "Roland named her while we were gone." He laughs at that, smiles knowingly because leave it to his boy to take care of business. "She's beautiful, and kind, and smart. Even if she did marry a Charming," Regina shakes her head absently at her daughter's choice of a husband, but stops abruptly at the confusion in Robin's eyes. "Neal," she clarifies and watches as he comes to grips with the fact that the babies he left aren't babies anymore. "I'm sorry," she rushes out, tears spring again. She's getting so far ahead of herself, bounding over years of bed time stories and scraped knees, first days of school and broken hearts. There are so many moments that make up a life.

"He's a good man?" Robin asks, knowing full well that he is. She nods into the hand that holds her head gently, fingers again weaving through her hair. The Charmings would have raised no less and Regina would never have let his _Ella_ (he turns the name over and over in his mind) marry anyone that wasn't worthy. "Take a breath, Mi'lady. You don't have to tell me everything before this fire burns down. And none of it need be in order."

"I missed you." She leans in, kisses him softly, deeply.

"And I you," he kisses her again, will kiss her every chance he gets for as long as this eternity lasts. "We have forever."

* * *

 **Sorry?**


	8. The Talk

Thank you all so much for all the feedback, faves, and follows. I'm really glad you are enjoying this little series as much as I am. I'm off work for the next 3 weeks and will most likely be bored out of my mind and hopefully finishing the half started ficlets on my computer, but if you have any suggestions for prompts or anything specific you'd like to see please let me know and I'll probably do it. Thanks again.

Not quite OQ, but Hood/Mills family. Set after Robin comes back and before Camelot. In my mind it was more than a few hours.

Henry let the arrow fly and it landed in with a dull thud in the earth several feet from its intended target. He notched another, not bothering to aim, and sent it whistling through the tree branches, birds noisily fleeing. At the third, there was a hand on his elbow.

"I don't need your help," Henry shrugged him off and launched the arrow. The bow sprung back, snapping his hand. The boy cried out equally in frustration and pain and threw the bow to the ground, kicking at the dirt. "Why are you here?" he spun to face the man that had interrupted his rage.

"Your mom said you came out here to practice," Robin took a step back, hands raised in surrender to whatever he had just walked into. "I thought I might offer some assistance." He picked up the bow, brushed it off and handed it back to Henry. "If you brace it here," he began, but the bow was quickly knocked out of his hand.

"I said I don't need you. WE don't need anything from YOU!" It was out now, no taking it back, but Henry didn't want to. This had been building ever since his Robin had left for New York; leaving his mom with a hole in her heart that she couldn't hide. "You're just going to leave again; you're just going to break her heart again! Why don't you just get it over with? Take Marian, or Zelena, or whoever she is, take your baby and get out of our lives!" Henry watched as Robin's eyes flicked from his face to the balled up fists at his sides.

Robin stood frozen. He deserved that, had been waiting for it in fact, but had expected to hear it from Regina, not her normally rational son. He'd been back a few weeks now and aside from a few late night conversations with Regina (that never resulted in much talking,) and one very drunken night with David and Killian no one had really talked about what had happened after he left. Robin had a feeling he was about to get the sordid details from a furiously enraged teenager who was caught up in the middle of it all. "I never wanted to hurt her, Henry. Or you. I never…"

"She cried herself to sleep!" Henry cut him of, voice cracking with the strain of it.

"Henry," Robin began, but didn't know how to finish. He knew he'd hurt the boy's mother, but the fact that Henry was acutely aware of the details of that pain made it so much worse. He knew the standards that Regina held herself to as a woman, a leader, and most importantly as a mother. It would devastate her to know that Henry had seen her as anything less than the in control person she was.

"Do you even care?" Henry asked when Robin had been silent for too long. "You act like nothing happened while you were gone, like she just waited for you and now everything is fine. It wasn't fine!" Henry shoved him hard. He was fast and Robin wasn't expecting the move. He stumbled back, but managed to keep his footing. "It's not fine! She acted like she was fine, but she wasn't! She isn't!" The younger man pushed again, lunged really, this time knocking them both to the ground. He was straddling Robin, fists flying. "She loved you and you left her like she was nothing! Did you think about her at all? About us?"

Henry was a clumsy fighter, had probably never thought about hitting anyone in his life. Robin should have blocked the blows easily enough having been in more than a few scrapes and scuffles in his day, but Henry's manic flailing managed to connect with Robin's head and chest before he grabbed the boys arms, pinned them to his sides and rolled them both. That should have ended it, but Henry was enraged, thrashing wildly and forcing Robin to hold him tighter push him harder into the ground.

"Every minute!" he yelled into the boy's face. Whether it was the force behind Robin's answer or simple exhaustion, Henry finally stilled. Robin held him down another moment, both men breathing heavily, than sat back on his heels, extended his hand to the boy and after a few stubborn seconds Henry let himself be pulled to his feet. "May I speak?" Robin asked in earnest, gingerly touching his swelling eye.

Guilt was already consuming Henry. Guilt and fear: his mother was going to kill him when she found out he'd gotten in a fight. And with Robin, no less. But he still didn't regret his words or his actions. Someone had to look out for her and if not him, who? "Go ahead," he relented, sitting on the stump that Robin motioned him toward.

Robin had never coddled Henry, never talked to him as any less of a man because of his young age. His mother had raised him well and he'd certainly faced more than his fair share of trauma and had handled it as the great man he would become. Robin was proud of him, proud to know him, proud to be a father figure in his life. He hoped after today that the last was still possible. "We were becoming a family: your mother, you, Roland and I. You _are_ my family. Crossing that line and walking away from you both was the hardest thing I have ever done."

It took a moment, but he could see Henry processing this revelation, could see him calm down if only a bit. "Do you still love her?"

"I never stopped," Robin answered without a moments hesitation.

"What about the baby?"

That was the question wasn't it? The one he had absolutely no answer for. "I don't know," he admitted. "I won't lie to you and tell you that everything is going to be fine. It's going to be a mess and it's going to be hard on her although I know she'll never admit that. But it's my child, Henry. I hope you understand that I can't abandon her. Especially not to Zelena."

Henry stared down at his hands, swollen and scraped from bow and blows. "I just wish she didn't have to hurt all the time. It seems like when something goes right, something else goes wrong. I just want her to be happy without always having to pay a price for it."

"As do I. I've seen her in pain, Henry. We met when she thought she'd never see you again. She was devastated. It kills me to know I've caused her anywhere near that pain. I want nothing more than to make her smile, to see her carefree again. But we're going to get through this. All of us together."

"You promise?" Henry asked, uncertain in this place between boy and man. "You're sticking around?"

"On my life, I promise. And YOU must promise to keep me in line. I'll never purposefully hurt her again, Henry, but you know her better than anyone. You know what she needs more than she does."

"She loves you. And she loves Roland. And she will love the baby. It's what she does." Henry could see Robin visibly relax at his words. The reaction confused him. He had to have known that his mother would never have turned a child (especially his child) away. Maybe there still were a few things he could teach him about loving one Regina Mills.

Robin extended a hand that Henry shook in promise and truce. "She's going to kill me," he mumbled as he looked from his swollen knuckles to Robin's swollen eye.

"Well, archery can be a difficult skill to master and errant arrows can hit any unintended target." Robin stood behind Henry, correcting his hold, re-notching his arrow.

"You're not going to tell her?" Henry asked, risking a look at the older man over his shoulder.

"Not a word, but I do expect you here tomorrow for actual lessons. There can't very well be a member of the Merry Men with aim worse than Little John." He clapped a hand on the boy's shoulder. The thief walked away to the sound of an arrow embedding soundly in its target. A smile spread across his face as he wondered how to explain his blackening that Regina would believe.


	9. She's Weary

**Hi lovelies! I can't believe this has over 7,000 hits. That is just awesome. Thank you all so much for the lovely reviews. I'm glad you've been enjoying this for the most part.U**

 **This is what I wanted the Underworld to be / what the Underworld is / some much needed OQ s'mores. *Side note: I usually don't write a tone of sexy times so please don't cringe too much and I apologize if its horrible.**

 **OK, enough babbling.**

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Weary

It felt to Robin that they were wandering aimlessly through the endless cemetery of the Underworld. Regina was a few paces ahead of him, silently slipping in and out of the rows. Her breath hitching occasionally, a hand rising to rub at her temples, but no other sound than the movement of foot and fabric penetrated this somber place. Any word felt too harsh, too intrusive. Not that there were words that could bring her any comfort here. He had tried them all. Shushed and held, pledged love and devotion as he soothed nightmares that haunted her in wake and sleep.

He often couldn't see the souls that approached her. It seemed the ones doing her the most harm (who's unfinished business is her suffering) chose to remain hidden from the rest of the living. She never tries to stop them, lets them take what they need from her in order to leave this wretched limbo. He can always tell the moment it happens though, the sudden stiffness in her joints, her eyes that go wide before squeezing shut. She no longer cries out; no longer covers her ears in an attempt to block out what's raging inside. He hates that she's growing used to it, but he has reluctantly promised not to interfere.

She's been stopped for some time in front of a marble grave stone. Robin can't make out the name, but he decided a while ago that it was best he not know. She had wronged these souls in life, insists that her punishment is deserved, but if he were able, Robin would kill them all over again. She's trembling. Fists clenched at her side, head hung down so that her hair hides her features. He wants to touch her; tuck her hair behind her ear and pull her against his chest. Carry her out of this godsforsaken place and forbid her to ever put herself through this again. He worries about her constantly. She's bone tired, thinning before his eyes, her features drawn, always rigid, always on guard. He aches for every part he can see, but more for the ones he can't. The ones that consume her all too infrequent dreams, that leaving her screaming and desperate and unable to be touched even by Henry; even by him.

There's a loud crack echoing through the graveyard. Robin is instantly alert, hand at the blade on his hip but he relaxes instantly as the gravestone slowly falls shaking the ground around them: another damned soul freed, another wrong made perversely right. Regina's hand reaches back for his. He grabs a hold of her wrist, brings her knuckles to his lips and kisses softly. His brow furrows as he sees the blood in her palm and on her fingertips, grabs her other wrist and notices the same. She's clenched her fists so tightly she's drawn blood.

"Enough," he clasps her hand, letting her blood smear into his pam as he pulls her away from the graves. She stumbles to keep up with his sudden urgent pace, but he doesn't slow. He's angry. At these beings that won't let her be, at himself, at her, at this whole infuriating situation. But more than that, he is done standing idly by.

"Robin, slow down," she trips over a stone and almost falls to the ground, but he's hauling her up with a hand on her bicep, still moving towards what he can only hope resides in this hellish town.

He doesn't stop moving until they're secured in the lower level of her vault, until he tugs her down the hall that few know is there and has her sat at the edge of the bed. "Can you heal them?" he kneels before her, turning her palms up in her lap. It's hardly a mortal wound, half-moon indentation across the center. Four perfect bloodied dots in a row.

"It's hardly worth the magic," she laughs softly, turning her hands and making to rub them against her thighs. Robin grabs her wrists, rougher than before and turns them over.

"Heal them." His words are harsh. She startles in his hold, but doesn't pull away, doesn't lower her eyes. Never one to cower, he knows, but he hates himself for even causing her to flinch. "Please," his voice goes softer as do her eyes. He lessens his grip on her wrist and slides his palms under her knuckles, thumbs stroking her palms just below the cuts.

Soft lilac glows in each palm; there for a moment than vanishing taking the blood and pain with it. Robin lowers his head to kiss her palm, letting his forehead rest on her knees. "Robin, you're scaring me," she folds herself over his head, healed hands running through his hair before she plants a kiss to his nape. She doesn't realize that it's the first time she's touched him this intimately since they arrived in the Underworld, but he most certainly does.

"I'm sorry, love," he's rubbing her hands again. "I'd never hurt you, but you're scaring me, Regina! Day after day you're putting yourself through unspeakable torture. Not letting anyone in, not letting ME in. You wake screaming when you sleep at all and you won't talk to anyone. You barely let me touch you without flinching away." He's up off the floor, pushing off against her knees and pacing the length of the room. "You asked me to come with you, to walk through hell with you and I'm here. I never hesitated. But there is no bloody point in me being here if all I am to do is follow you around and watch let yourself be destroyed! I won't do it anymore!" His fist collides with the gilded mirror secluding the room and comes away a bloodied mess.

"Stop!" Regina was across the room in seconds, hands engulfing his own, magic coming of its own accord. "Robin, please stop. Please stop." His cuts were quickly healed, but his anger and frustration were not that easily subsided. She holds his hand between hers, looking at him as he pointedly looks away from her. "I'm sorry," she breathed into him, moving her hands up his chest, looping them around his neck and burying her face into his shoulder. "I'm so, so sorry."

They stay there for some time, her arms tight around his neck until his pounding heart calms and his tense arms find her waist, wrapping loosely, holding gently, rocking back and forth over broken glass. "I love you," he whispers into her hair.

"Love you too," she strains, fighting tears or rage he's not entirely sure but to see her face he'd have to push her away and that's just not going to happen.

He bends slightly moving his arms under her rear and lifting her out of her shoes and over the fallen glass. Regina bends her knees and he lowers her slowly to the bed. Her arms remain around his neck, her face hidden as he unbuttons her coat and slips his hands beneath it rubbing her back through the thin material of her sweater. Up and down, shoulders to waist then up her ribs, the sides of her breasts and back around to her hips. Over and over until tense muscles began to relax under his hand. She sighs against neck and leans into him a bit more heavily. Robin pulls her arms from his neck, slips her coat off her shoulders and tosses it aside. His hands coast back up her body, pulling her sweater with them until it joins her coat at the edge of the bed. Her arms loop back over his shoulders, fingers playing with his hair as his hands resume their relaxing pattern over her body. "I missed you," she whispers, lips pressing against his softly.

"I've been right here, love." There's pain in his eyes that he doesn't try to hide from her.

"I know." She pushes his coat off and lets it fall to the floor. Makes to grab at his shirt, but he's got his hand in her hair, pulling her back to him and kissing her deeply. "I _am_ sorry," she tells him in the breath between kisses. "I wasn't trying to shut you out." His hand is between her breasts now, feeling her heartbeat before traveling down her stomach and slipping beneath the waistband of her trousers. Regina inhales deeply when his hand presses against her sex.

Robin moves his hand slowly against her. He knows her body, could bring her to peak in moments and prides himself on that fact, but that isn't what she needs. "Let me take it away for a bit." He kisses her jaw, the side of her neck, smiles into her shoulder when she pushes her hips into his hand. "Let me love you." She nods against his neck, a breathy moan slips past her lips, and then he adds a little more pressure with fingers that slip beneath her panties. She's wet for him, not nearly enough, but Robin is a patient man with absolutely nowhere else he'd rather be. His lips are on the move again, sucking and nipping at her earlobe, down her jaw, her chin and back up the other side. Regina turns her head to accommodate his wondering tongue, moaning softly as he tugs lightly at her hair, as his fingers begin circling her clit.

She's bunched up the fabric of his shirts, pulling and pulling but there's nowhere for them to go whilst his arms are otherwise occupied. "…feel you," she grumbles out against the scruff of his neck, cursing herself for not ridding him of the garments sooner.

"This is about you, love." He slips a digit inside of her, her moans no longer quite as soft as he begins thrusting in and out.

" _I…ohhhh…I_ want to feel you." She's pulling at his clothes again, has one hand snaked up from the bottom, nails scratching at bare flesh. He laughs against her and pulls both hands away, removing his shirts as quickly as possible and tossing them aside. He grabs at her waist as her hands rake over his chest, pulling at the spattering of hair there before kissing everywhere her hands had left to coast over toned abs. Robin can't help the groan that starts deep in his throat; she definitely had not touched him enough. But this isn't about him, he tells himself again grabbing her hand just as she's got his fly open and worming her way inside his boxers.

There's a pout on her face that he can't help smile at, her forehead knitted up in frustration but then he's kissing her wrist, up the inside of her arm, wrapping it around his neck and then doing the same with the other. She pulls at his hair again, kisses him deeply and his hands are back on her ass, kneading and pulling her impossibly closer to him. "Hold on," he whispers, sucking just behind her earlobe. Her arms tighten around him instantly and she's off the bed, legs wrapping around his waist. He holds until he's sure she secure against him then moves them up the bed.

Regina rocks her hips against him, a wicked grin on her face that Robin soundly kisses away. Her arms let go first, his hand on her back lowering her into the pillows, unhooking her bra in the process. She rather enjoys him trapped between her thighs and it takes longer for her to unhook her legs, even at his insistence: the way he's rubbing up and down her thighs, pulling at her knee. He takes her nipple in his mouth and she melts, resistance gone. "Robin," she gasps when his teeth scrape against her peak, tongue soothing in its wake.

"Yes my love?" his voice vibrates against her breast, is doing deliriously wonderful things to her mind and body. He palms her neglected breast, not giving her a chance to remember what she was going to say. He switches his mouth to her other breast, smiles at the gasp it earns him and walks his fingers slowly her stomach. "Lift," he's tugging at her hips. It has her hands fly to trousers, unfastening them and pushing them down with her underwear, wiggling her hips until she's kicking them off. Then he's circling her clit again, fingers matching the pattern his tongue is tracing on her breast. It has her whimpering in seconds.

"Kiss me," she's pulling at his shoulders until he's releasing her breast, licking his way up her neck before taking her lower lip between his teeth. He slips his tongue into her mouth the same moment his fingers enter her. She's drenched now, two fingers sliding in and out with no resistance. His kiss muffles her cry, but she's quickly kissing him back. It's sloppy, all teeth and tongue as she's gasping and moaning against him, hips thrusting against his palm. And then Robin does the unthinkable: he stops. Doesn't pull away from her, but his hand goes completely still, fingers buried deep inside of her. Regina's eyes snap open, searching his for an explanation; she'd been so close.

He's grinning down at her, those damn dimples that turn her thoughts in a less murderous direction. She's breathing hard, he watches her breasts sway as her chest heaves next to him. Robin leans down, kisses her softly, slowly. His fingers curl slowly inside of her making her breath hitch again. Robin is stretched out beside her, propped up on his elbow with fingers running through her hair. He loves watching her like this: moth dropped open, body relaxed into bliss as he rubs _that_ spot inside of her. Slow, firm strokes that have her fisting the sheets, her other arm outlining the muscles of his back.

She's close again, he can feel her walls start to flutter around his fingers, her breath coming in fast shallow gasps. His fingers leave her hair, trace her cheek her jaw. "So beautiful," he mutters against her neck, kissing his way across her clavicle, down the valley between her breasts until he once again has her nipple in between his teeth. She comes hard with his name spilling from her lips. Her body pulling him further inside and she's thrashing next to him, nails digging into his shoulder, her fist white knuckled in the sheets. Regina rolls her body into him, buries her face into his chest. The movement forces his fingers from her; he runs them through the sheets before ghosting them up and down her back.

 _Mmmmm_ , is all she can manage at first, then "…need a minute," as she slips her arm under his. Robin moves to his back, pulling her with him. She's loose limbed and sweaty atop his chest and the thief can think of nowhere else he'd rather be. He pulls her hair to the side, away from her neck and relishes in the feel of it across his chest. "Thank you," she turns her head only enough for her lips to make contact with skin. She's vaguely aware that it's his stomach as the muscles contract under her cheek, doesn't feel it necessary to open her eyes for confirmation.

"You are most welcome, Mi'lady." His hand rests on her hip, content to hold her until her breathing evens out or for the rest of their lives, that'd work too he smiles to himself as she watches her sprawled over him, slowly coming back to her senses. She's moving now, more coordinated. He can see the muscles of her back flexing, feel her fingers drawing designs across his abdomen then she's going lower and "Regina!"

"Yes, Robin?" She's still laying over him, her back blocking his view, but he can hear the smile in her voice. Her fingers wrap tightly around the base of his erection, pulling slowly until she can swipe her thumb over the tip then back down just as slowly. She keeps up her lazy pace until he's practically panting, until his fingers dig into her hip and he's urging her off of him. She releases him with one more swipe of her thumb that comes away coated with him a lets him push her to her back.

He pulls his pants the rest of the way off, kicking them aside as he crawls up between her open thighs. He kisses her mouth repeatedly, alternating between top and bottom, traces the edges of her lips with his tongue before she opens to him and he swipes inside. She moans around his tongue, sucks it in her mouth as she rolls her hips against him, hooks her ankles on the backs of his thighs and " _Gods, Regina_ " and he knows he won't last long, but she doesn't seem to care. Her hands rake down his back, gripping his muscled ass to pull him closer, closer until he can feel that she's slick and he's sliding right against her clit.

"Need you," she's whimpering against his neck, pulling her knees up to give him room to move. He has to hold her hip to still her movement, presses his forehead to hers and for a moment they're both gasping the same air. He enters her slowly, always slowly, circling her clit with his thumb; they're moaning in tandem as he pushes all the way in. He stays deep within her, thrusting slowly, building them as gradually as their bodies will allow. He's braced on an arm just above her shoulder, with her head tipped back he can reach her lips with his, her jaw, her eyes are screwed shut as his other hand runs continuously from her breasts to her clit.

Robin tries to focus on her, wants to watch her to come again beneath him, but she's got her knees bent up, feet planted into the mattress and she's meeting him thrust for thrust. He doesn't want to stop her pleasure, but he can feel is release tightening with every rasp of his name from her lips and he needs her to "Come for me," he sucks at the join of her neck and shoulder, tastes the sweat and lingering florals of her perfume.

She's crying out, tears spilling from her eyes and she's "so close…so close" and he's got his arm off her clit and under her ass, holding her snugly against him, pounding into her and then it's "there!" and _Mmmmm_ and breathless "love you" with every thrust of his hips. She manages to get her arms around his back, pulling him down, while pulling herself up until there's no space between them and his stomach slides against hers, breasts pressed to his chest and she explodes.

She's silent against him, holding on for dear life as he continues to thrust into her, her orgasm spiraling through her and everything is sweet, endless ecstasy. His hips still against her after one final, deep thrust. She's vaguely aware of her name being repeated against her ear. He's tugging at her arms, at her hair, calling her name again, but without the throes of passion behind it.

"Breathe, Regina!" Robin wipes at her face, panting from his release, but she doesn't want to because even breath will take this feeling away and he's still inside her and she's still locked against him, and if he could just keep moving, if they could just stay like this… But he releases her hips and pulls out of her before pulling her arms from around his neck. Her eyes are still screwed shut, arms reaching blindly for something to hold. He grabs her flailing hand and squeezes, hard. Regina's eyes snap open and she's gulping in air, Robin only then realizing he'd been holding his breath as well. He lays back down beside her, still holding tightly to her hand as he covers her face in soft kisses. "Breathe, love," he says gently against her skin.

She's disoriented, everything's still fuzzy around the edges, she hadn't wanted it to stop, that blanket of pleasure that covered her, wanted to stay there, cocooned, but she knows it's not possible. So she focuses on the breathing, on the in and out that makes her lungs burn, on the soreness of her muscles, the satisfying ache between her thighs and the man next to her looking down at her with so much concern, so much love that it brings fresh tears to her eyes.

"Tell me," he says, wiping tears from her cheeks.

She shivers as sweat dries on her body. He reaches across her, pulling at the blankets they lay on until he has her folded in them and secured against his chest. "I'm tired," she admits with an almost embarrassed sigh.

"I know."

"And I'm scared."

"I know." His hands are roaming again, never still against her, but its soothing now; an easy intimacy that they always seem to find.

"I want to go home," Regina's voice breaks. It has him kissing the top of her head, expecting her to shut down any moment, but he's got her talking now and she can't stop. "I want us to find a place of our own," her voice is quiet, but steady. "You hate the mansion and I can't live in a tent." He laughs, makes to tell her that he doesn't _hate_ her home, but it's true, he doesn't care for it. It's cold, sterile, but it's hers so he's never complained. "We need a place for us, for the kids. Where we have space to be a family; where Henry will roll his eyes at me when I kiss him goodnight; where Roland will refuse to go to sleep until I read the next chapter of Harry Potter; where Ella can have a disgustingly pink princess room to grow up in; and where we can lay like this, every night, and make love, and be happy."

He's quite for a while; taking in everything she's just said. He'd thought about it, of course. Wanted a life with her that was not his and hers, but theirs. And she'd just laid it out, so simply that the only thing he's left wondering is why they hadn't done it before. "Then I think," he muses against her hair, "that it's past time we find a way out of the Underworld and start living."

"I love you," she scoots up his chest to peck at his lips.

"And I, you." Robin lifts his hand to run through her hair. When it lands, there's purple smoke clearing around them and they're standing in their layers and coats outside the loft. He simply raises an eyebrow, slides through her hair root to tip, and takes her hand as they walk through the door.

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 **thoughts?**


	10. She's Missed

**I'm in one of those everything-I-write-is-complete-and-utter-crap-and-I-should-just-stop-trying moods so I switched to a bit of OQ fluff in hopes it would loosen up the muse. Post Sisters**

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Robin stood when the familiar purple smoke began spiraling a few paces to his left. She's moving before the smoke has a chance to clear. "Emma told me what happened. Are you okay?" He hears her before he clearly sees her and before he can answer Regina has one arm around his neck and the other around the child cradled in is arm.

"We're both fine, love. David and Killian showed up just in time." He runs his free arm up and down her back, leans his head down until his cheek is pressed to hers. "We're fine," he assures her again when he feels her hand clutching at the back of his jacket.

She finally nods against him and lessens her grip, simply leaning against him and stroking the head of the sleeping baby in his arms. "I can't believe how much she changes in just a few days," she says gently swirling the curl poking out from her pink hat. "I don't think Henry was ever this small." The baby squirms under her fingers, small pink lips pursing and both parents know she was winding up for a proper wail.

"Right on schedule," Robin chuckles. "You could set your watch by the times that this girl wants to eat."

"May I?" she reaches for the baby and Robin places her in her arms without hesitation before going to fetch the bottle.

"You never have to ask, you know," he tells her as he settles in to her side, passing over the bottle just before the fit erupts from the infant she'd be pacifying with her fingertip. Regina lifts an eyebrow to him as she slips the nipple between eager lips. "To hold her," he clarifies, "to do anything with her. You don't have to ask."

"Thank you," she cranes her neck to peck at his lips. Regina knew he trusted her, he'd told and showed her time and time again and she thinks that she just might be ready to believe him. They sit in comfortable silence; the only sounds the crackle of the fire and the grunting and suckling of the baby in her arms. He has an arm draped over her shoulders, tracing lazy patters along her bicep. He watches her as she watches his daughter; falling more in love with each every moment that passes. "You seem to be fairing quite well out here on your own," she smiles at him, but there's a sadness in her eyes that breaks his heart.

"I am," he admits, if reluctantly. "I've lived in the forests the majority of my life; it's always been home to me." He squeezes her arm when he feels her tense subtly against him, drops a kiss to the top of her head as she removes the now empty bottle from the sleeping baby. "But I miss you," he tucks her hair behind her ear, kissing her cheek. "I miss you terribly," his lips pepper her jaw, nose, chin, until she can't stifle the laughter and pushes him away before she wakes the baby in her arms.

.

.

.

The night grows impossibly darker under the starless sky. With the baby fed, changed, and tucked in for the next few hours they settle in next to the fire. It's only in the glowing light that he notices the tear tracks on her cheeks. "You've been crying," he states without question, pulling her closer. She shifts so that she's practically laying over him, torso flush to his side and legs tangled. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not tonight," she insists, trailing her hand until it rests over his heart. "Let's just say that my sister and I learned a lesson from our past."

"Alright…" he's measuring her response and seems satisfied with the fact that she's practically boneless against him… "if a bit cryptic. You're sure you're alright?"

"I am," she nods against him. "And I promise to give you all the details once I process them."

"Very well then," his hands rake through her hair. It's a hypnotic magic he possesses over her; simple stroking through her locks that has her eyes heavily closing and she's all but purring against him. "Stay tonight," he whispers, lips moving against the top of her head.

And she hadn't intended to, even knowing that Zelena was with Hades and this was probably the safest night they would ever spend in this hellish place, and Henry had plenty of supervision (especially since Snow had left and David hardly left his side), and Emma had given her _that_ look when she announced where she was going and told her she'd see her in the morning. She hadn't intended to stay in his makeshift camp in the middle of the woods, but she can't for the life of her remember why that was. So she murmurs "of course" and nestles in further, snakes her arms under his jacket. She's not cold, not really, but being wrapped up in him is much better than not.

They stay just like that until the fire dies down and the shiver that runs through her is more from the cold than his touch. He sits them up and shudders when the majority of his body that she covered is exposed to the night air. "Welcome to my humble home, mi'lady" he smiles as he pulls back the flap of the tent. It's small: cozy but efficient and she feels a bit intrusive as she crawls toward the pile of blankets that have been his nest. He's positioned for a quick escape; baby and weapons both within easy grasp. She takes a moment to appreciate the efficiency of his living arrangements before he's unfastening her coat, unzipping her boots, and urging her toward the pile of blankets. She sinks down willingly and he's pressed against her back in seconds, an arm bent under her head. He's warm and safe and pulling the blankets around them both as he nuzzles against her neck, kissing "missed you" into her hair.

"You mentioned that," she laughs softly, sleep already pulling her under.

"It warrants repeating," his arm grows heavier slung over her waist, fingers that still managed to find the ends of her hair go lax. His breath of "Love you" is the last thing Regina hears before she lost in the first real sleep she's had since they arrived.

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thank you for reading:)


	11. His Future

**Sappy, angsty, unedited (because its 1:30 am and I have to be up for work in 4 hours), pile of fluff based on the previews for next week's finale.**

 **Because Fraise Dandelion said please…**

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They'd fought.

The moment that they had returned to the proper Storybrooke and Robin had both children secured in his arms, they had fought. It was stress, and worry, and too many pent up emotions that they never seemed to be given the time to process. She'd pushed and he'd pushed back, insults thrown like daggers tipped with _my child,_ and _my sister,_ and _you left me,_ and _you won't let me,_ and _I thought this was real,_ and _trust,_ and _love,_ and _…._ Their walls were building higher and higher until they were both breathless and crying and why the hell were they fighting again?

It was Robin who moved first. Regina was still prickly around the edges, her deadly temper had flared and would smolder long after his had burned itself out. She was still breathing deeply when his hand skimmed up her arm; nostrils still flaring when he got to her shoulder. When his fingers grazed the side of her neck, she melted into his touch. _Damn him_ , she thought. _Damn herself_ as well because she knew that she was powerless against him.

"Regina, you are my future." His thumb traced small circles just under her cheekbone, fingers lost in her curls. "We're going to fight. You're going to make me crazy," he flashed his dimples, tilted her head up so he was certain she understood, "but I'm ready for it, love. Can't wait for it. You are the only one I want to drive me absolutely infuriatingly insane." He held her in place, added his free hand to her bicep and squeezed when her hand automatically closed over his tattoo.

She tried to brush him off, gave him her best eye roll, but she couldn't stop the fresh tears from welling in her eyes. Regina sniffed, the sound echoing around them. "Damn you," she wiped roughly at her eyes, huffing out frustration as she tried to keep the tears at bay. "You always do this to me."

"Do what, mi'lady?" he asked innocently, pulling her towards him, cradling her head against his chest.

"This," she waved her hand in front of her tear streaked face. "You always turn me into this pathetic, disgusting mess."

He caught her hand and brought it to rest over his heart. "There is not a single thing about you that is pathetic, nor disgusting. In fact I find you quite beautiful when you go all puddly in my arms.

"Puddly?" she laughed, voice still thick with tears, but the tension behind it was gone. "I'm sorry. I had no right to…"

He cut her off with a gentle kiss to her lips. "I didn't bring you hear to fight, Regina." It took a moment for his words to sink in, another for her to look around the trees that surround them and realize just where "here" was. A few feet to the left and she would be standing in the same spot where she had decided to throw caution to the wind and find her own happy ending; where she had pulled this insufferably good man to her and kissed him senseless. Robin watched her face, waited for the moment when her forehead scrunched just a bit and he knew she was trying to work it all out.

Then he sank to his knee. Tossed a red velvet box nervously around in his hand.

"I've meant to do this for some time now, carried this little bauble all the way to hell and back, but the moment just never seemed right. And I realized," he took the ring from the box, a simple band with one stone at the center. It was hardly fit for a queen, but it was perfect for Regina. "I realized that we may never have that 'perfect' moment, or that we may never get to stop running or fighting, but there is no one else in any realm that I want by my side for all of those moments. I love you, Regina. Only you. Always you." He had slipped the ring on her finger, was twirling it gently from side to side just over her knuckle. Her hands were shaking in his and she'd gone to pieces again, but made no move to wipe a single tear away. "Will you marry me?"

Regina was trembling from head to toe; her heart was pounding so hard against her chest she half expected it to force its way out. Would it still be black as the night? She had to wonder. It couldn't be as small as it was the last time she had seen it, not when this man had brought so much love into her life. Maybe that is why she felt like it would explode any second. Was this too much? Was unyielding love what would finally do the Evil Queen in? She couldn't think of a better way to go. "Yes," she said then realized that there had been no voice behind the word. No matter, he'd seen it in the sparkle of her eyes.

Robin was on his feet, Regina in the air with his arms tight around her. She cupped his face, ran her fingers across the stubble there before leaning down to kiss him. Her tears wet his face, her hair stuck to them both in random spots, but neither cared. Their lips were still pressing together when he lowered her to the ground. "It's beautiful," she looked at the ring, for the first time truly taking it in.

"Henry helped pick it out." That had done it, he knew. She was going to be a beautiful puddly mess for the rest of the evening and he couldn't have been happier.

"I love you." Regina wrapped her arms around his shoulders, kissed him again, and again, until the sun began to set and they knew they needed to get back. She could have had them home with a wave of her hand, but instead she laced their fingers and leaned into his side as they began the walk back to town. He was right about all the difficult moments ahead and for now she intended to enjoy every second of this one.

* * *

 **I have to just take a second to thank every single person who is reading this, especially those of you who are promoting it. I surged over 10,000 hits today and that is just insane to me. I haven't had that sort of following on a story since my SG-1 days and that was many moons ago. So thank you thank you thank you. Love you all to bits.**


	12. My Grief

My Grief

 **Well…the terrible awful thing that I was certain wasn't going to happen happened and I'm pissed. But we're all pissed and I feel like I have ranted and raged enough so I'm going to slightly barrage you with post mortem ficlets for a few installments to get it all out of my system and then we are going AU and pretending this absurdly ridiculous thing never happened because OQ makes me happy and I choose to continue to be so.**

Regina waited until everyone else had made their way past: a solemn group of mourners making their way to the heart of the town to try to make sense of this senseless death. She couldn't be near them; she couldn't leave him. Snow and Charming were the last to trickle past, their eyes skimming the stones, no doubt seeking her out. But her lover had been a thief and had taught her how to hide. She avoided them easily, slipping back through the scattered stones to where she expected be alone, were she thought she could grieve, where Emma Swan stood with her arms wrapped around her indestructible boyfriend.

She lost control, striding without thought or consequence up to the pair, her fist colliding soundly with Emma's jaw as she smoothly ripped the pirate's heart from his chest. Emma instinctively cupped her cheek before turning back to Regina. The blonde wasn't prepared for what she saw. Emma couldn't speak; her eyes went wild and panicked as she stared at the Evil Queen with a horror on her face Regina recognized all too well. "I could crush it," Regina hissed out. "I could grind it to dust. I could burn his body to the ground. I could boil the ashes." She shoved Killian's heart against Emma's trembling form. "But it wouldn't matter." Her hands closed around Emma's wrist and the blonde flinched at the iciness of the touch. "It wouldn't matter!" she screamed it up to the heavens, squeezing harder on organ and wrist. "He always comes back! You _always_ get him back! _YOU_ always get your happiness!"

Killian tried to block the pain as Regina squeezed Emma's fingers around his heart. "Regina, love," he gritted out, "I'm so sorry I…"

"You." She abandoned Emma and turned toward the resurrected pirate. "You don't get to be sorry. You get to be alive. Again. Isn't that enough? Isn't that more than you deserve, Villain? Robin—the best person I have ever known—doesn't even get to move on and _YOU_ and _I_ get to keep living." She was barely an inch from his face, could feel her own hot breath floating between them. "How is that fair? We don't deserve it." She reveled in the pain she saw in his eyes; the fear of losing it all again and again.

"It's not. And if I knew it bring him back I would tell you to crush that, but it won't. And he wouldn't want…" He was cut off in a groan of pain as Regina squeezed harder.

The Savior was speaking, but Regina couldn't hear. Her blood pounded in her ears, pushing everything else away. Emma's hand was on her shoulder, she dared to touch her. What was she hoping to accomplish other than her own painful demise? Regina wondered, and then spared a thought to how much she would enjoy finally ending Emma Swan's charmed existence. She felt nothing but the familiar, comforting rage. Nothing mattered at this point: she had nothing else to lose.

Until the moment she remembered that she still had everything.

"Mom?" Henry's frightened voice went straight to her heart. She turned her head to see her son staring at her with frightened eyes, Roland clutching his hand and hiding his face behind Henry's arm. Hiding from _her_. She caught her own reflection in Robin's varnished casket. She was wild: eyes wide, a manic grin distorted her face, hair falling loose from its bun in wet ringlets, the pirate's bright heart clenched tightly in her fist. Every bit the Evil Queen.

Regina lowered her hand slowly, eyes flicking between her reflection and her boys. "Take it," she sobbed out and Emma had Killian's heart safely back in his chest seconds before Regina crumbled to the muddy ground. Her knees sunk further into the wet earth as Roland climbed into her lap and wrapped his small arms tightly around her neck. Henry kneeled behind her, hugging both her and Roland from the back. She leaned into her son, into her _sons_ , and sobbed. Horribly loud and painful gasps that she couldn't contain or control, tears streaming down and mixing with the dull rain that had plagued this day.

Emma stood a step back, her heart still pounding from what had just transpired, clinging tightly to Killian when she saw more people coming back to look for the missing mayor and her boys. "Keep them back, Swan," Hook unlaced their fingers and nudged her toward the gathering crowd. "No one need see this. Give them a moment." With another quick embrace, Emma jogged toward her family and friends. For his part, Killian turned his back to the weeping queen, standing guard over her grief. She had been right, of course. This life wasn't a fate either of them had earned, but even though life had taken so much it had also given. He'd somehow earned a second chance to live and love; she'd hopefully learned that she was worthy to be loved by the children that she clung to.

She would heal. They would see to it. He would see to it. It was the silent vow he made to the man that had been his friend, that had loved her despite her past. Hook promised Robin, that even though he was gone, his family would be his legacy, his future.

 **Thank you all so much for all the follows, faves, and reviews. It never gets old. You're rock stars!**


	13. Stupid Girl (or more grief)

**I needed more Granny in Regina in my life.**

Granny Lucas was exhausted. Part of her was really and truly grateful that her establishment was the heart of this chaotic town, part wished they'd find somewhere else to celebrate, to grieve, or discuss their ever impending demise. The last two days had covered all three. First there had been the Outlaw's wake, followed immediately (interrupted really) by the Pirate's return, and then the earth shook and the skies erupted throwing them once again into an uncertain chaos that had somehow become routine.

None of that is what kept her up tonight, however. No, what wouldn't leave Granny's mind was the portal opening in the morning. The three sorceresses had all agreed—a rare occasion indeed—that it could be done. It would take their combined power, but they could sustain it long enough for those who wanted to return to the Enchanted Forest to do so. She had watched from behind her counter as the people of her town quickly split apart: so many eager to return, so many begging to stay.

The dwarves were divided. She subtly kept Leroy's glass full as he drank down the reality that he would likely never see some of his brothers again. The Merry Men were elated, never adjusting to this modern world most could not hide their excitement at getting to return to their own forest. Little John at least had the decency to look pained as he watched Regina cling to the sleeping boy she would lose in the morning. It wasn't fair, but it was right. He belonged with those lads who had raised him, who would tell him of all the parts of his father that Regina hadn't had the chance to learn.

The Queen would stay; the Savior and the Author and well. Theirs had been a decision made in seconds with frantic glances and squeezed hands. The Pirate wouldn't leave his Swan, nor the Witch her reclaimed sister. The Charmings had surprised her, more importantly they had surprised themselves. Both were resolute in their decision: the Princess to go and the Prince to stay. When the couple had left the diner, Granny still wasn't sure which side of the line she would see them on when the sun rose.

She hadn't forced anyone out the door tonight, hadn't announced her usual last call or stopped to wash a single glass. A few patrons were still lingering when she left for her rooms; Leroy passed out at the bar, Marco and Archie deep in conversation in a booth, a few others whose orders she knew by heart even if she didn't know their names. She was sure hers was not the only mind searching for answers tonight. The first journey from their home had been a curse, the second a necessity, but this was a choice: one that everyone would have to make and live with.

She didn't remember falling asleep, but hours had passed when she was suddenly jarred awake by the crashing rattle of metal pans hitting linoleum. "Damnit, Leroy!" she trudged down the hall, grabbing the crossbow by the door just in case her instincts weren't correct. They weren't, she discovered as she burst into the back kitchen, weapon raised but unneeded. "Regina?" she asked even though the identity of the woman was undeniable. Normally Granny wouldn't have addressed the mayor so informally. It would have been _Madame Mayor_ or _Your Majesty_ thickly coated in the same easy detachment as the other woman's _Widow Lucas; a_ detachment that over the years had caused them to be very much attached.

Regina was on her hands and knees, left leg awkwardly twisted beneath her, designer dress sopping wet and sudsy. There were dishes everywhere. "I'm sorry I woke you," Regina whispered as if being quiet now would make up for the raucous she had just caused.

"What on earth are you doing you stupid girl?" Granny leaned the bow against the wall and bent before Regina.

"Dishes," she said simply. As if it was the most natural thing in the world for the Evil Queen to be washing someone else's dishes in the middle of the night. "I slipped."

"That floor is a death trap; I've been saying it for years." She held her hand out and Regina let herself be pulled to her feet. Well, her foot. Her left knee didn't quite want to hold her just yet and she winced as she tried to step back to the sink. Granny grabbed a nearby chair and positioned it at Regina's backside with an order of "Sit" that the younger woman quickly obeyed. She grabbed her own chair and sat across from Regina, pulling the brunettes leg across her lap and twisting her ankle and knee until she was satisfied nothing was badly damaged. She didn't say a word more, certain the grieving woman had had her fill of condolences and platitudes over the last few days.

They sat in silence. Regina was counting the drips as the faucet leaked into the half full sink. At 117 she let one word go: "Why?" And then she was unleashed; the dam breaking and sweeping everything under in its wake. Granny was certain it was the first time she had truly allowed herself to cry for him, for his boy, for herself. She gathered the weeping woman into her arms, held her firmly to her breast. Regina didn't hesitate, allowing herself to soak in the motherly affection she had been denied until it had been too late for it to matter. "Tell me it wasn't because he loved me," she pleaded between ragged sobs. "Tell me he didn't die because I was too weak to push him away. Tell me he knew…" the rest was lost in a wail she didn't try to hold back.

"That man knew you loved him more than you ever thought you could love anyone," Granny said unequivocally, directly into her ear. "You don't need anyone to tell you that him loving you was wrong. Love is never wrong; it makes you stronger, better." She grabbed Regina's face, hands firm on wet cheeks as she stared the younger woman down. "You listen to me, girl. I don't give two shits what that devil said or what weapon he used, a love like the two of you have…"

"Had," Regina interrupted, fresh tears falling against the fingers that still held her face.

Granny didn't miss a beat as she swept her thumbs under Regina's wet lashes. "I mean what I say," she chastised. "You still love him. That love doesn't die. You'll have your thief back in the end."

Regina believed her. There was no rational explanation for why. It went against everything she knew to be true, but looking in the wolf's certain eyes, Regina couldn't help herself from giving in to the possibility of hope. Her body still shuddered, trying to regain the control she had given up and she went willing back into Granny's open arms until she could once again fill her lungs without them spasming in her chest. "Are you leaving, Granny?" Regina asked in a broken voice as she peeled herself away, wiping tears that hadn't been absorbed by the older woman's sweater.

That was the question wasn't it? The one that had kept her from sleep. She settled back into her chair and took in her surroundings. Pans and broken dishes covered the floor, the fading wallpaper peeled in the corner, the damned faucet that dripped her to sleep every night, and finally to the barefoot and cried-out evil queen in her kitchen. She suddenly wondered why there had been a question at all. "And leave all this?" she swept her arm out as she got to her feet and headed to the sink. "Stupid girl." She tossed a towel over her shoulder that landed in Regina's lap. "Now finish those pans. No curse has ever stopped the people of this town from wanting their breakfast."

Regina joined her at the sink, towel in hand. She could have this place spotless with a flick of her wrist, but as she raised her hand to do just that, Granny's hand closed around hers. "Yes ma'am," the queen smiled, shoving her hands back into the soapy water. They spent the next hours in silence, shoulder to shoulder, getting ready for the morning.


	14. Soulmates

**I fixed it. :)**

Robin isn't dead. He's right next to her, arm draped over her waist, fingers splayed over her ribs and brushing against the underside of breast. His steady breath is warm on the back of her neck. She scoots herself back, sealing the fraction of space between them, laces her fingers with his. But it's not enough. Regina turns herself carefully under his arm until they're face to face and she has her hand pressed firmly to his chest. His hand coasts up her back, tangling in her hair. He leans down, lips finding hers in the dark.

Robin eases his arm out from under his pillow and slides it under her neck. Hooks his leg behind her knees and draws her in. He knows exactly what's wrong, knows why she hasn't stopped shaking since Hades' attempt at ending him and the answer is simple: Because the demon had succeeded.

Robin wasn't dead, but he had died. He remembers the pain in his chest, spreading like lightening through his body. He remembers turning to her, needing to see her face one last time, knowing that the end was coming too quickly. He'd reached for her, but never felt the warmth of her skin before there was nothing.

She hadn't told him what had happened, how exactly he had come back to her tears falling against his face. It was all very much a blur, but he had ended up in their bed with his arms around her and their children—all three of them—sleeping safely down the hall. But Regina was still shaking in his arms. Her arm snakes under his t-shirt, nails digging into his shoulder and he knows she's crying again.

Robin places kiss after kiss into her hair, but it does nothing to soothe her. "Tell me what happened, Regina. Tell me everything." He pulls her back enough that her head rests on his pillow instead of in his neck and begins running his fingers through her hair. She sniffs and nods, nose bumping against his as she adjusts in his arms.

"You sacrificed yourself for me," she places her hand against his cheek, stroking the stubble there as she tries to put tonight's events in order.

 _Before_

Hades had been reduced to dust and her sister was screaming, but Regina could only see Robin. She fell beside him; the crack of her knees against the marble went unfelt. She pulled at his shirts, at his legs and his arms; shook his shoulders hard enough to have his head bouncing against her thighs, but there was nothing. He was lifeless beneath her. Regina laid her head against his chest, no movement, no sound. He was as cold as the floor he lay on.

Zelena pulled her from Robin's lifeless body and into her arms. They'd rocked back and forth for a few minutes, neither looking away from the body on the floor when the click of Emma's heals thundered into the room. She'd raced in the moment she'd gotten through Zelena's barrier. "Hades?" she asked breathlessly as she sank down and futilely checked Robin's pulse.

"Gone," Regina said. Her voice was empty and she still hadn't looked away from his face.

Emma reached over Robin's body, placing a supportive hand on Regina's arm. "Did he…"

"Robin jumped in front of me. He's always getting in my way," Regina's voice was thick with tears that wouldn't end. She leaned heavier on her sister, causing Emma's hand to slide to her wrist.

"Regina, you're hands," Emma grabbed the queen's wrist, turning her trembling palms up. They were glowing the same faint blue that Robin's spirit had moments before.

"What is that?" Zelena asked as she forced Regina up to her knees and took the hand that Emma wasn't holding.

"Let go," Regina said, but neither woman moved. "Both of you let go now!" she pulled against them, ripping her hands away and plunging them both into Robin's chest, wrapping her hands around his unbeating heart. "Soulmates," she was frantically whispering to herself, to him, to the universe. "We're soulmates. I'm still here which means you're still here to. Robin!" She screamed barely a breath from his face, the light from her hands slowly spreading over his body until he was completely encased in it. Regina pulled her hands out and cupped them around his face. "Please come back to me," she dropped her forehead to his and waited.

Zelena had a hand on her sister's back, exchanging confused glances with Emma. "There has to be something we can do," she told the blonde.

"I'm not even sure what's happening," Emma answered honestly as she stared down at Regina leaning over Robin's glowing form. Then suddenly the light was gone, melted into his body but he remained unmoving; as did Regina. "It can't hurt," Emma raised an eyebrow to the witch who nodded in agreement as they both let their magic flow into the outlaw's body.

It was another full minute, the longest of their lives, before Robin opened his eyes. Her face was the first thing he saw, but this time when he raised his hand to her cheek his fingers felt the warm wetness before slipping into her hair and pulling her down to him. "Oh my god," Zelena spoke first, Emma just laughing as she watched the lovers, rather the soulmates, cling to each other.

They helped him up slowly, Regina and Zelena supporting most of his weight as Emma whisked them all back to Regina's mansion.

 _Now_

"And you already know the rest," Regina's thumbs were still tracing his cheeks. Robin still had arms and legs wrapped around her.

"Are you telling me that you gave me your soul, Regina?" Robin was grateful for this second chance, but hadn't regretted his sacrifice for her. He never would have wanted her to give so much of herself to save him.

"I'm not sure?" she laughed against him, it was a sound he would never tire of, "Part of it at least. I think." She nuzzled back into his neck, feeling better now that she had been able to recount the events that plagued her mind. "It was more than worth it, Robin. I'm fine. We're both here and that's all that matters."

Robin rolled to his back pulling her with him so that she lay mostly on top of his body. "I didn't know it was possible for two people to share a soul," he ran his hands up and down the length of her spine. "I would never have asked you to do that."

"And I never would have asked you to die for me and you've done it twice now. Please let that be enough." Regina rose up on her forearms so she could look down at his face. "I love you. I can't lose again."

She felt him sigh and then nod against the pillow. "I love you too. Let us agree to try and avoid the need for self-sacrifice for a while, shall we?"

"Ok, thief." Regina settled back into his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart as his arms wrapped securely around her. "You said I was your future and I fully intend to have one with you."

"And I you, mi'lady."

 **Personal Note: Ugh! You guys I LOVED the finale. And I really did not want to love the finale. I wanted to stay angry at this stupid show with it's horrible writing and let this be the last episode I watched and continue on in happy fan world. And I still think it's ridiculous and pointless that Robin had to die, but it was so good, and Lana was so good and now I'm sucked back in. Alas…**


	15. A Wish

**Another fix-it ficlet. Who doesn't love a good kiss in a fountain?**

The busy hustle and bustle of the city, the traffic, the white noise of countless simultaneous conversations: all were replaced with the splashing of coins hitting the water of the fountain. Wishes were flying through the air. Regina's eyes were fused to the crystal that was pulsing to life in her hand. It was working. Her son was right, as he so often was, they only had to believe. "It's working," Emma's voice radiated pride next to her as the blonde tossed coin after coin. Even Gold had tossed his own wish into the rippling fountain. Regina believed in her son, in his plan, and as she closed her hand around the last quarter in her pocket she chose to believe in herself.

As soon as her coin splashed into the water, the portal sprang to life, their lost family members standing shocked before them in an instant. She hated that her heart broke at the sight of them. She should have been thankful, she was thankful, but she had once again dared to hope and it had been in vain. He wasn't there, would never be there again. Regina shook her head at her sister's unvoiced concern as she held her tightly, grateful to have her back safely.

"Regina!" Zelena stammered out, pushing Regina out of her embrace. She spun her sister away from her, gripping her upper arms tightly. Regina scanned the crowd, looking for what had Zelena shaking her roughly. Then she saw him. He was on the other side of the fountain, eyes scanning just as hers had seconds before. Confusion covered his face until his eyes locked with hers.

There were people everywhere, too many damn people blocking every path around the large fountain…so Regina went through it.

Water splashed up to her knees, soaking her coat. Her shoes were most certainly ruined, but that hardly mattered at all. Regina had made a wish and for once it came true. Robin splashed his way to her, sweeping her up into his arms the moment she was in reach. "How is this…? Where are we? How did…"

"Later," Regina silenced his frantic questions with ruby lips, wrapping her arm around his shoulders and bending her knees allowing him to hold her just above the water. He returned her kiss in kind, uncaring for the moment about the circumstances that brought him back to her. Neither paid any mind to the cheering and applauding crowd as they kissed and kissed, holding desperately to one another until the need for air forced them apart. "I love you," Regina breathed into the space between them as she stroked the stubble along his jaw.

"And I you," he moved an arm from her waist to hook under her knees before caring her out of the fountain. The crowd that had gathered for the show began to dissipate, back to their chores and routines, not realizing the impossibility of what they had just witnessed. "We're in New York?" Robin asked as placed Regina in the center of their family that had gathered around them.

"We are." It was Henry that answered, pulling the older man into a tight hug. "You wished it, didn't you Mom." Henry looked to his mother; she was smiling again, eyes alight despite the brimming tears. "I did too," he admitted as Regina pulled him to her with sobbed out laugh.

"I did too," Emma said to her right, sharing a mile with the thankful queen.

"So did I," Snow said to her left, displaying the most hope-filled grin Regina had ever seen.

"I also felt you should have gotten the same chance I did, Mate." The pirate came up and embraced his friend. Robin's eyes grew impossibly wider at the site of the resurrected man. "Zeus gave me a pass, as it were, for helping defeat Hades. It would seem you received a bit of the same for your part in stopping him."

Regina saw her sister flinch at the words. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words would come. She couldn't find it in her to placate her Zelena; the other woman knew that she had no remorse for the death of Hades. "It's okay, Sis," Zelena spoke before Regina could. "I'm glad you've got him back. And I'm glad Robyn will have her father."

Regina nodded, leaning heavily into Robin's side, wrapping her arms around his middle and holding tight. "Robyn?" the thief asked.

"Well you were dead at the time," Zelena casually explained with a dismissive wave of her hand at his shocked expression. "It seemed fitting. Now we'll have to find her a nickname." She squeezed her sister's arm as she walked past the pair. "Can we get out of here?" she asked anyone who would answer her.

"That sounds like a great idea," Emma said steering Zelena toward the apartment building. The rest of the group quickly followed. "You two probably want some dry clothes," she winked before jogging a bit to catch up to Henry and Violet who were leading the way.

"Sit with me for a minute?" Regina asked, pulling Robin back toward the edge of the fountain. He went willingly, wrapped an arm around her shoulders and rested his forehead against hers. "I can't believe you're here."

"I still don't understand it. I remember watching you, reaching for you, and then…this," he reached up to cup her face, stroking his thumb along her cheekbone and tangling his fingers in her hair. "How long was I…"

"Four days." Regina covered his hand with her own, holding his touch to her. "We just had your funeral," she laughed softly bumping their heads together, but neither moved away. "And then Henry took off with his girlfriend to end magic and the Charmings got sucked into a portal with Hook and Zelena and…" She was laughing uncontrollably and the absurdity of it all. "And I tossed a quarter into a fountain," she leaned to peck at his lips. "And I wished for you back by my side," another kiss that lasted seconds longer. "And then you were there."

It was Robin who leaned in next, capturing her lips in another chaste kiss yet holding her to him. "We've been given a second chance, Mi'lady and I do not intend to squander it," he met her lips once more before pulling her to her feet. "Let us go home."

They navigated the streets of New York hand in hand like any other couple. No evidence that they had just achieved the impossible. If she squeezed his hand a little tighter than necessary just to assure herself that he was still there; if he watched her instead of the road in front of him because she was the last thing he saw and ever wanted to see, no one that brushed past them was the wiser.

 **Always and forever thanking you for reading and reviewing. You make me happy. :)**


	16. Parting Glass

**Somehow Robin's death has brought out my underlying HookedQueen BroTP feels. Who knew? I promise only one more depressing ficlet (I have to say a proper goodbye to the dimples) and then I'll be happy again.**

* * *

 _But since it falls unto my lot_

 _That I should rise and you should not_

 _I'll gently rise and I'll softly call_

 _Goodnight and joy be with you all_

He spent his days with her, with her boy, with her family. He spent his days living and basking in all the mundane glory of life. He spent his nights in darkness; in a turmoil that the neither rum nor the sea could sooth. He hadn't processed it at the time, so grateful to simply be here, be with her after everything. It hadn't hit him until he saw Regina. Her eyes on him when he burst through the doors were missing their usual fight and fire. She was hopeless. Unable to even muster the hate she should have had for his mere presence. So Hook had avoided her, avoided her dead eyes and focused on living, moving forward, being with his friends and family, the woman he loved, on everything but the person that wasn't here. And it was easy. The days were busy and light, but the nights were another story entirely.

He'd made peace with it: his end, never seeing her again, hearing her, holding her. But he'd promised her he'd move on. He'd done his part, assured her safety, and welcomed the next chapter in his tale. However, the Gods had another plan, it seemed, and when he took his next step into the light, it led him back to her. His Swan. Standing before the coffin of his best mate.

At night he wandered the sleeping town, in its lonely darkness, so much like the Underworld he had escaped. He steadfastly avoided the cemetery, the stones that bore reminder to those he would never see again. He let the drink dull his mind, hoping to take his thoughts in a more pleasant direction, but instead his body led him here: the one place he wished most to avoid. He stumbled drunkenly in front of Robin's grave. "I should be the one in the ground. I _was_ the one in the ground and you," he swung the bottle, spilling rum into the dirt, "you went down there to get me back and then…" Something shifted in the pirate, a dam he hadn't known he'd formed, burst. "This isn't bloody fair, mate! It isn't bloody right! You didn't deserve this; there was no point to this!" He threw the bottle and it shattered against the stone; liquor and glass mixing with the flowers and mementos left for the father and the friend.

"Bloody hell! What's the point?" He shoved at the unyielding grave stone, kicked the flowers apart, then fell to his knees and began clawing at the dirt. "What's the point of being a good and honorable man if you gets you nothing? Why not be the pirate? Why not be the thief? Because the good man? He dies! Doesn't get a second chance! Taken from his children! And the pirate, the scoundrel, he lives again and again without consequence!" He panted out his rage in the moonlight, oblivious to everything but the blood pounding in his ears.

"What would have me do, mate?" he asked, voice thick with tears that fell without shame. The fight quickly left him, giving way to the grief he hadn't yet allowed himself to feel. "You tell me, because I just don't know how to go on like nothing happened. How do I just walk back into a life, into a love that I haven't earned knowing that you'll never do the same?"

"You accept the fate you've been dealt." He didn't turn at Regina's steady voice behind him, didn't flinch when her magic enveloped the stone repairing the damage he had done without a word as to how it had happened. He only dropped his head when she sunk to her knees beside him. "You accept the fact that the gods or the universe or what have you _wants_ you to live, _wants_ you to love. You stop wasting your time talking to a stone that can't give you any answers and you get your immortal ass back to Emma and my son. You _live_ the life you were allowed to live and you don't let a moment go by without telling the people you love exactly how much they mean to you. Because one day," she couldn't help but laugh softly, "one day you might not get another chance." Regina's hand covered his where it rested on his thigh, squeezing when the touch alone failed to get a response from him.

"He loved you, Regina," the pirate eventually said. "Of that I am certain."

"I know," she smiled at the simple confession. "And I love him. Always will." The tears were gathering in her eyes again and Regina wondered how long it would be before she'll think of him without her heart betraying her. "But he's not here," she pressed her hand to the cold stone, "and I refuse to believe what Hades said. He's somewhere far better than you or I will ever see."

"Of that I have no doubt, Your Majesty." He turned his hand, engulfing hers and holding it between them. They sat in comfortable silence, each letting their own tears fall until Regina reached for the bottle she'd repaired, uncorked it and took a long pull before passing it to the pirate. "For Robin," he toasted, taking the bottle from her hand to his lips. Regina nodded as she placed a hand on his shoulder to leverage herself to her feet. She walked back the way she came, leaving him to say goodbye to the man they both loved.

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Who is going to Heroes and Villains in Atlanta? I'm seriously considering losing my con virginity and would love to meet up with some people! :)


	17. You're Taking Him

Thank you all for sticking with me. I'm about to attempt the thing where I start a multi-chapter and get absolutely terrified that it will get away from me and be a horrible failure, but I'll give it a go. Stay tuned. In the meantime...have some Dimples.

She knew it was coming. The moment that Zelena had announced to the town that she could open a portal and send them back to Camelot, to the Enchanted Forest, or whatever other realm they had started out in. It was her sister's way of trying to convince the residents of Storybrooke to give her a second chance (ironically by sending them away) but Regina appreciated the sentiment nonetheless. Many had chosen to stay, having spent more of their lives in the town than the villages they were born too, they weren't eager to give up this realm's amenities or the lives they had carved out. But many were leaving. They were mostly those that had escaped the first curse, she noticed: the residents of Camelot, the Merry Men. Her bustling town would soon be significantly thinned out and Regina was doing everything she could to avoid the inevitable.

She ended up in her office—the place she had steadfastly avoided since Robin's death—but, there was work to be done, a town that still needed managing, and paperwork that should be insignificant became a welcome distraction. She'd made it to the second file before her eyes wandered to the photo on her desk. Robin's blue eyes stared back at her, a wide, dimpled grin spread across their face. He had an arm around Henry, one around her, his fingers tousling Roland's curls as she balanced the boy on her hip. It was a perfect moment captured from a perfect day; one of what she foolishly assumed would be many more. She slammed the frame against the desk, when that wasn't enough to block out the pain, she shut it in the drawer.

So, yes, Regina had seen it coming: another blow to her battered heart, but one that she had already decided was necessary. When John knocked on her door, Regina had steeled her resolve. Still, she softened at the sight of him, could never not. Even in the Enchanted Forest when she scowled at everyone but Roland, John had always brought a smile out of her. Without saying a word, the gentle giant opened his arms to her and she melted against his mass, letting him envelop her with his sheer size. She let him hold her, tried to find the fleeting feeling of safety in his arms before she lost him as well. "You're taking him," she eventually whispered, resting her forehead against his chest, pulling back, but not letting go.

"That's why I'm here. We need to talk about what's best for the boy." There was a pain in his voice. He didn't want to do this do her, ask this of her. John knew better than most what Regina had lost since Robin's death.

"It wasn't a question, John," Regina forced herself to step away, crossed her arms protectively over her chest and paced the room. She stopped frozen on the space where Robin had died and stared hard at the floor. "I want you to take him. I want you to take him as far away from me as you possibly can. Keep him safe."

"Gina…" John had adopted the nickname Roland had given her almost instantly; despite her glaring looks and threats to roast him, it had stuck. It was a comfort now, that familiarity that they had, but the woman wouldn't meet his eyes and causing her more pain hadn't been what prompted John to seek her out today.

"It's okay," she nodded, eyes already watering. "I'm poison, John. I'm finally being punished for everything I did. Except I'm not the one that pays for my crimes. Robin DIED for me, because of me. Roland's been in danger from the second I came into his life. If anything ever happened to that boy…"

"That boy," John cut her off, crossing the room and taking her shaking hands in his own. "He cries for you. Won't be calmed by any other hand. That boy understands that his papa gave his life because he LOVED you. What he doesn't understand is why you don't want to see him anymore." She flinched at his words and he cringed. John's voice had been angrier than he had intended. He knew she was in pain, knew that she hid to deal with it. Lord knows he'd watched Robin coax her out for months, but he didn't have time for her feelings right now. Not when he had a boy that'd just lost his father and she was the mother that he needed to help him through it. "I'm not taking him from ya, Gina; I'm asking you to take him. Love him like I know you do. Let him grow up with Henry and his sister and his _mother_."

She held his hands so tightly her fingers began to ache. She hadn't seen Roland since the funeral when she'd kissed him goodnight and bid John to take him back to the camp. It had been the right thing to do. Hadn't it? John's confession had her questioning her decision to remove the boy from her life. The self-loathing and terrified part of her knew that he was only placating her, that Roland was fine and would continue to be fine without her; the mother in her knew he was telling the truth. She was the one Roland wanted after a bad dream, the one who read him stories, dazzled him with magic. But she was still the one that put him in danger. "How can you even think that's appropriate? How can you think to trust me after everything?"

"Because he believed in you, even when you didn't believe in yourself. Especially then. And he trusted you to do right by his children," John answered without a moments hesitation. "I've known Robin all my life, Gina. He was not a man that made rash decisions. When he stepped in front of ya, he knew exactly what he was doing and what he was leaving. He wouldn't've done it he didn't know those children would be cared for."

"By you," she insisted. "How could I ever take him from you?" She moved her hands up to his chest and let her forehead fall against them.

"Who said I'm going anywhere?" John laughed, causing Regina to bounce against him.

"You're staying?" She stepped back until her calves hit the couch and collapsed onto it. "But I thought…"

"Many of the Merry Men are returning to the Enchanted Forest, but not all," John clarified, joining her on the sofa. "I'm quite fond of this realm, and its cuisine." He thumped his large stomach, earning the desired snorted chuckle from the queen, before hauling himself to his feet. "I'll tell Roland you'll be by to pick him up later. We'll be at Grannies." Regina watched his back as he crossed her office, her mind trying to process what had just been said. They were staying. His boy, Robin's son, he was staying with her.

"John," she called after him, her heels clicked quickly across the floor as she stumbled to catch up with him. John stalled with his hand on her door, only nodding at her whispered "thank you" before heading out and leaving the Mayor to the rest of her afternoon.

Regina slowly returned to her desk on shaking legs, the space felt ridiculously large and empty. She sat at the desk and reached for the picture she had shut in the drawer. She stared hard at their smiling faces: Henry's, Robin's, Roland's, and her own. Her family. She would keep it alive, keep him alive through it. Roland would know his father not only through John, but through her and Henry as well. She placed the frame back in its original position (watching over her), opened a file then shut it again, grabbed another and did the same. "To hell with this," she muttered under her breath as she rose from her chair and crossed the room, grabbing her coat without breaking her stride. John would just have to deal with her being early; she had a dimples and curls to cuddle and a little boy to love.

* * *

They were at the booth by the jukebox when Regina got to the diner. Granny glared at her from behind the counter, the look and the nod that followed very clearly telling the former queen that it was about time she got her act together. "I was just about to bring out his milkshake," the older woman said, sliding the drink across the counter and disappearing into the kitchen.

Regina was rarely nervous, but as she walked toward John and Roland she felt her anxiety increase with every shaky step. Roland looked impossibly smaller sitting across from his Uncle John. His head was in his hand, curls flopping over his face. He needed a haircut, she thought, but she hated the thought of changing anything about him. "Is this seat taken?" she asked timidly, setting the shake down between them. Roland looked up slowly, his eyes growing wider when he saw Regina standing next to him. When his lip started quivering, Regina didn't wait for permission before sliding in next to him and pulling him into her arms.

"Why did you go away?" he asked through hiccuped cries. Regina held him tighter.

"I'm so sorry, Roland. I'm so sorry," she cooed and rocked, rubbed up and down his back as Roland fisted her hair. "I promise I'll never go away again." She let her tears fall into his curls, held him until he calmed and remembered the chocolate treat waiting for him.

"John said I'm gonna come live with you again. And that I can still stay with him too. I'll have two places to live." He explained it so simply with chocolate covering his face, Regina couldn't help but laugh at all the pressure and insecurities she had about trying to explain things to Roland.

But still, she had to ask "Is that something that you'd like to do? Come back and stay with Henry and me?"

He nodded eagerly around his straw. "I don't want you to be sad, though," he turned to Regina and she wiped the chocolate from his face. "What if you think of Papa all the time because I'm there and it makes you sad?"

Regina's cracked heart, shattered. She stared into Roland's big round eyes, so serious for such a young age, so full of concern for her, the person that should be taking care of him. She risked a quick glance at John, saw the man fighting his own tears at the boy's declaration, and that wouldn't' do. She couldn't handle them both upset. "I think about your Papa all the time, honey," Regina stared into Roland's eyes, but she hoped John heard her as well. "And sometimes I'm sad, but sometimes it makes me happy. When I see you, it makes me very happy and it makes me remember all the things that we did with him and all the ways that we loved him."

Small, sticky fingers reached up to wipe the tears from her cheeks. "Can I come home with you tonight?" Roland asked, and Regina nodded against his palms.

"We can leave whenever you're ready."

"I'm going to stay with Gina tonight," he informed John. "Maybe tomorrow I can stay with you."

"Gina and I will work it all out, my boy," John got out of the booth and lifted Roland high into the air. "You needn't worry about a thing." He set the boy back on his feet and Roland pulled Regina to hers.

"Come on My Little Knight," she let him lead her out of the diner, "let's go home."

* * *

 **Almost to 100 followers. You all are amazing. Thank you!**


	18. Winning

**I did another thing…So many ways to fix this mess. Let's call this a Fix-it AU?**

 **Winning**

Hades arched his arm back like a bad parody of a baseball pitcher; the crystal pulsed to life in his hand. "Ladies first," he sneered and sent the menacing light hurling towards Regina.

Robin was fast, she'd give him that. Darting himself in front of her on agile feet that were used to getting in and out in a hurry. But her magic was faster and she appeared in front of him before the thief could even sense that she was no longer behind. Purple smoke spun out, momentarily covering her and Hades from his vision. When it cleared the sound that ripped from Robin's chest was nothing he recognized as human, let alone belonging to him. Regina was standing inches from the demi-god's face, both arms wrapped around his back. The Olympian Crystal wedged perfectly between them, still pulsing with power.

"I win," Regina spat into his face. Even as the lightening coursing through her became unbearable, even as she felt strong, familiar arms wrap around her waist, she wouldn't let go of Hades. She pushed him further against her until she instinctively knew that the crystal had penetrated his heart. Her sister was screaming, her lover was screaming, Hades himself was screaming, but Regina didn't let go. Not until there was nothing left to hold, his body crumbling to ash in front of her, did she let herself fall back into Robin's arms.

"No!" Zelena dropped to her knees beside Robin and Regina. Hands shaking violently as she reached tentative fingers to the pile of ashes on the floor. "This wasn't supposed to happen. This isn't how this was supposed to end!" She screamed at the remains, was still doing so when Emma burst through the door, Snow and Charming on her heals.

"What happened?" the blonde demanded as she raced across the floor, falling to her knees and, sliding into Robin's side. He was cradling Regina's body against his chest, her head lolled back and forth before settling in the hollow of his shoulder.

"He was going to kill her," it was Zelena that answered, scooting herself across the marble floor away from the heroes. "I thought he just wanted me, but he was going to kill her, them. And she…she…" Whatever else the witch was going to say was lost to her hysterical sobbing as she backed herself into the corner of the room.

"She stopped him," Robin finished for her. He brushed his knuckles across Regina's cheek before winding his fingers through her hair, pulling her closer to him so he could place a gentle kiss on her forehead. "Save her, Emma," pained blue eyes bore into the Savior as he rocked back and forth clutching at Regina.

Emma raised her hands, white light pouring from them and into the woman the thief would never let go. After several minutes where the only sound heard where Zelena's muffled cries and Robin's frantically beating heart, Emma let go, slumping forward in exhaustion. Regina hadn't stirred. "It's too late," the blonde whispered between breaths, tears falling freely from her eyes. "She's gone."

"Split my heart," Robin demands, suddenly shifting from grief to desperation. She's not gone, not yet. She's still warm in his arms, still here. There still has to be a chance. "She was willing to do it for you, Emma. Do it for her." He doesn't mean to be yelling at her, sure he will regret it later but at the moment he can't bring himself to care about the feelings of other people.

"I don't know how to do that, Robin." Emma has taken Regina's hand in her own, saying goodbye to her friend in her own way.

"Figure it out!" He snapped, pulling Regina's hand free of her. "She just destroyed herself to save everyone _again_ , so you damn well better figure it out!" Never in his life had he been this angry, this desperate, or this scared.

"This isn't a locator spell or healing a scraped knee. I've never pulled anyone's heart out before. You die if I screw this up and it might not even work." Emma tried to yell back, but couldn't find any hate towards the man who had just watched the person he loved die. She knew that pain all too well.

"She trusts you. I trust you. It'll work. You can do this; you can save her." Robin wept openly, his tears falling into Regina's hair.

"Zelena, get over here!" Snow demanded of the weeping woman still huddled in the distance. The witch had just lost her love and her sister and was so numb she blindly obeyed. "Take her heart out," Snow directed, taking charge of the situation as the witch knelt next to her sister. The princess had found herself again during their trip to the Underworld and that was largely from Regina kicking her ass into gear. She wasn't about to let her go without one hell of a fight.

Zelena slipped her hand into Regina's chest, fingers wrapping around her sister's motionless heart and pulling the organ free. "I'm sorry, sis," she laid the useless object on the floor and took her sister's hand. "I destroyed everything. I'm so sorry." She vanished in plum of green smoke, leaving Regina's hand to fall limply against her hip.

"Emma," Snow said firmly, drawing her daughter's attention back to the task at hand. "We don't have a lot of time if this is going to work." Snow couldn't worry about Zelena right now; she couldn't worry about anyone except the woman that had died to save them.

"It's going to hurt," David told Robin as he knelt beside him. He tried to take Regina from him, but only managed to move her away from his chest. "Do it quickly," he instructed Emma and the blonde plunged her hand into Robin's chest without giving either of them time to think about it.

The archer gasped when his heart was removed. His empty chest heaved, but he nodded at Emma, urging her to continue.

Emma's hands shook so badly she could barely hold the heart, let alone split it. Snow's hands covered her own, holding Robin's heart secure. "You can do this, Emma."

"Don't let go, okay?" She shouldn't be leaning on her mother, like this. She should be able to bare this burden alone, but she was literally holding two lives in her shaking hands and Emma was terrified.

"One fast break. That's what Regina did. And if it makes you feel any better, Emma, she was shaking just as badly as you are." Snow loosened her grip just enough to allow Emma's hands to move beneath her own, but as promised, she didn't let go.

Emma looked from Robin's heart to his face. He wasn't looking at his heart or the person that would tear it in two; he was looking at the woman he would share it with. His fingers were running through her hair, thumb across her cheek. Lips pressed firmly to her temple. His eyes were closed, lashes wet from tears never ceasing to fall. "Emma, please," Robin whispered, his lips brushing Regina's skin. It was the desperation in his voice that did it, washed every bit of Emma's doubt away as she gripped his heart and twisted hard. Robin's blanched, his body folded over Regina, would have landed on top of her if David hadn't have been there with hands on his shoulders pulling him back up.

Emma held half of his heart in each hand, each beating strongly on its own. She brought a hand to his chest, one to Regina's. "Ready?" Emma was still shaking violently and it reflected in her broken voice. Robin covered her hand that rested on Regina's chest with his own, pushing gently, encouraging. She pushed both halves in at the same time. The intake of breath from Robin was the only sound in the room; everyone's eyes were on Regina who still lay limply against his chest.

"Come on, M'lady. Open your eyes." Robin squeezed her tighter, pulled her up straighter against him so that her face was pressed into his neck. "Come back to me," his voice was stronger, more urgent. "Regina!" he yelled into her face, shaking her hard. "Open your eyes! OPEN YOUR EYES!"

"Okay, thief," her voice was quiet, mostly hot breath against his ear, but it was there. "There's no need to yell," Regina slowly slid her hand up Robin's chest, along his neck, until shaking fingers were cupping his cheek and holding his face next to hers. Then she finally opened her eyes. "What did you do?" her other hand hovered over his chest, feeling the beat beneath that matched her own.

"You're okay, that's all that matters," Robin soothed as he covered her hand with his own. "We're both okay." He didn't see the knowing glance that passed between David and Snow; he didn't hear the teary relieved laugh that Emma couldn't control. He just saw her, felt her, heard her: alive and well and holding on to him. They'd won. Somehow they'd all won.

It was his daughter's cries piercing though the air that pulled them all back to reality. "Someone's hungry," Regina laughed, still pressed against his cheek.

"I've got her," Snow was up and across the room while Emma and David helped Robin and Regina to their feet. "Zelena left after she took out your heart," she told her stepmother when she returned bouncing the baby in her arms. "I'm not sure where she went."

"I know where she is," Regina answered, knowing her sister would retreat to her cabin in the woods. "She'll come around when she's ready." Her sister was much like her (rather much like she used to be) and needed space. Regina was done with space, never wanted it again. She was still leaning into Robin, an arm looped around his neck the other around his back fisting his shirt; she was never letting her family go.

"Then let's go home," David announced. A hand on his wife's back urging her to hand the baby to her father.

"Are you really okay?" Emma stepped in front of Regina as the group was making their way out of the office. Her eyes were flicking from Regina's face to where she had pushed Robin's heart into her chest.

"Thanks to you," Regina closed the space between them wrapping her arms around the blonde. It was awkward at first, neither woman was accustomed to showing their emotions, but it was needed. Emma hadn't realized how tense she was until her body relaxed into Regina's strong embrace. "I never thought I would be able to do that," Emma confessed when she pulled away. "He loves you so much." She was looking at Robin when she said it; the thief still had a hand on Regina's back, the other holding the pink bundle of his daughter.

"I know," Regina told Emma with a smile, then turned to her head towards her thief. "I can feel it." Their lips met briefly, a promise of a lifetime to come as they followed the three Charmings out into the night.

 **Happy 4th!**


	19. Marry Me

**Thank you so much for sticking with this series. I just hit 95 subscribers—I'll do something awesome if I hit 100. Not sure what, but it will be awesome—and almost 20,000 views. Unreal.**

 **Not my usual style at all, but I posted this little ditty on tumblr a while ago and never did add it here. I punched it up a bit because I'm always editing.**

* * *

She won't marry him. She'll have to tell him eventually. Eventually he will ask. She knows this. It'll be after a quiet dinner that he will cook for her, pour her wine, and bring her roses with a diamond secured to the stems. It'll be while they're watching the children play in a quiet, safe moment when he puts an arm around her shoulder, whispers his love into her ear and slips a simple band around her finger. It'll be during another narrowly escaped danger that haunts their lives, when he'll pull her close, wipe away blood and tears, and fall to his knees. But she won't marry him. She loves him. Gods, does she love this man and everything he is, everything he stands for, every knowing glance and gentle, easy touch. She won't ever leave him. She knows she can't live without him. But she won't marry him.

For her, marriage is a prison. It's a gilded cage with jeweled irons, concealment in a lonely tower, a contracted and forced duty. It has nothing to do with love. And she loves. For the first time in so long, she loves. Fully. Completely.

He won't ask why she'll refuse him. He'll be hurt. She can see the pain in his eyes as she pictures his reaction when she must refuse him. No, maybe not pain. Rather, a sadness that will linger, making him think that he's not enough, that she's holding back, that he doesn't already hold her whole soul in the palm of his hand.

For him, marriage is a promise. A bond forged out of love, a union in the purest sense, making each stronger than they would ever be on their own.

She'll assure him she's committed. All in: better or worse, sickness and health, hell or high water. All of it. Always. She'll tell him she loves him, loves his children, that they fill a place so long barren she forgot it capable of holding that pure of a love.

And he'll stay. She knows he will stay. Because he loves her with an intense urgency, needs her just as desperately as she does him.

It happens in a way she never expects. She's woken from a nightmare that won't relent, is pulled into arms that hold and sooth, comforted by familiar fingers carding through her locks and soft lips moving against her jaw. He's safety and comfort and true. When tells her he loves her she feels it in her bones and something gives way inside of her. Clarity punches her in the gut. She hears the two words she's been dreading hanging between them, feels whispered into his chest, coated in her own, certain voice. "Marry me."

His smile brightens his eyes and deepens the dimples at his cheeks. They hold each other tightly, kiss with a passion unchaste and unrestrained. And he accepts because he loves her light and her dark, her fear and her courage. Because he's known she's the other half his soul has been missing since the moment they met. And he'll never let her go.


	20. Split

**Pick any Robin-did-not-stay-dead scenario you would like and read away. I personally believe that there is absolutely no chance Regina would have split herself from the queen if Robin was there. That said, I loved the scene with Snow so this starts immediately after that. Enjoy!**

* * *

"Regina, don't!" Robin burst through the roof top door just as the needle pricked her arm. He was beside her in seconds, a firm hand enveloping the menacing syringe and pulling it from her skin before Snow was able to inject the serum. "Don't do this, love," he grasped her arm, staunched the pin prick of blood with his thumb and pulled her to his chest.

"Robin, what are you doing?" Snow was stunned; he'd practically knocked her to the floor when he put himself between her and Regina. "This can free her from the Evil Queen," her hand was on his bicep trying to pull him back, but Robin payed no mind to the protesting princess.

He turned slightly, still holding Regina protectively against him and looked past Snow to Emma. He knew in his heart that Regina's stepdaughter had meant well, might even consider apologizing to her later, but in the moment he couldn't bring himself to consider anything but the woman silent and trembling in his arms.

"We'll give you minute," Emma answered before the question had to be asked. She had an arm around her mother, leading a reluctant Snow from the terrace.

"The choice is yours, Regina," Snow told her stepmother, leaving the syringe on the table before following Emma down the stairs.

"Unbelievable," Robin grumbled into her hair the second the door closed. He loosened his grip on her just enough to inspect her arm, his thumb rubbed back and forth over the forming bruise the thick needle had left.

"I could be rid of her," Regina said, letting her head fall against his chest. It was the first thing she had said since he'd stopped this farce. The quiet surrender in her voice broke his heart. "I could be better. I would be better if she was gone." She leaned against him, staring at the needle Snow had left behind.

Robin wanted to destroy it, to take this retched decision out of her hands, but there was truth to what Snow said: the choice had to be Regina's. He just had to make her see. Wrapping an arm around her shoulders, he walked them to the far corner of the terrace, feeling better with putting some physical distance between her and that blasted needle. Where to begin? How could he convince her she was worthy as her whole self (the good and the evil, light and dark) when the events of her life kept convincing her otherwise.

He started where he always did, with his fingers in her hair. She melted into his touch, leaned into the tender kiss he offered, and let her forehead rest against his. "She is you, love. The Evil Queen is long past, but she's part of you. She helped create _you_." He's cupped her face, tilting her head just enough so that she can't look away from him. "If ridding you of all the anger and pain from your past was as simple as sticking that damned needle in your arm, Regina, I would do it myself. But it won't erase it. Nothing can change the past. You are who you are today because of and in spite of what you were. I won't give up on the woman I love, the woman that loves our sons and fights for her family. It scares the hell out of me that you don't think you're enough, Regina, and I don't know what to do to convince you that _you_ —all of you—are everything to me."

 **"** That was a pretty good start," she sniffed against him, not caring that she was a mess, that her tears and snot were coating his hands and shirt as he continued to hold her face to his. "It just never feels like I'll stop paying for what I was. If I was the one getting hurt it would be different, but…"

There it is. Her reasoning for even considering this madness and it's all instantly clear. Robin moved a hand to the back of her head, tucked her face into neck and let her cry. She'd barely taken a breath since before they even left for the Underworld and there had been nothing but a whirlwind pain and worry since. Enough was enough. For all of them. "Our lives are complicated, and that's putting it mildly. We're going to get hurt, people we care about are going to get hurt and there won't be a damn thing anyone can do about it. But it can't stop us from living, and it certainly can't take away all of the good that happens in between."

She wasn't ready to talk yet, wasn't ready to move from his embrace. Regina pulled her arms from where they were pinned between them, snaked them under his jacket, around his back and held. "You died, Robin. It's a miracle that you're here at all. How can you of all people be trying to convince me that I'm not poison?"

"Because I'm here." His arms run up and down her back, in and out of her hair, holding, soothing. "I'm here because _you_ brought me back. Because your _love_ is strong enough to beat death. I get to see my children grow up because of you. You did all that with darkness inside of you."

Regina finally stepped backed, wiped at her ruined face and tucked her hair behind her ears. She walked to the edge of the terrace and looked out over the city, steadying her breathing and trying to take in everything Robin had just said. He was a step behind her; she could feel him although they were no longer touching. He was giving her the space he knew she needed. Fresh tears fell from Regina's eyes as she wondered for the millionth time what good she had ever done to deserve him.

She reached her hand behind her and he took it without hesitation. They walked back to the table, back to the choice she still had to make. "I love you," he told her, kissing her knuckles before releasing her hand. "Regardless of what you decide, Mi'lady, I love you."

"I love you too," Regina stretched up to peck at his lips before taking the syringe in her shaking hand. "Becoming the Evil Queen, it didn't just happen overnight. I should never have thought leaving her," she shook her head and corrected herself, "leaving _my_ past behind could be this simple." Her thumb pressed against the plunger, injecting the serum into the night air.

Robin let out the breath he'd been holding as relief swept through him. He stepped behind her, taking the empty syringe from her hand and tossing it aside. Regina pulled his arms around her, leaned back into his chest and let him rock her back and forth. He kissed the top of her head, nuzzling into her hair. They stayed like that until the chill of the night grew uncomfortable and Regina was leaning into his warmth as much as his comfort. "We should probably go tell everyone I'm still evil," she mused and his arms tightened automatically around her.

"Don't talk like that, love. Don't think like that." Robin bends slightly, resting his cheek against hers.

"You make me better, you know." She turned her head, pressed her lips into the stubble at his jaw.

"You made yourself better," he straightened up, kissing her temple as he went. "I just get to be the one to remind you of that every now and then."

 **Thank you for reading.** **J**


	21. Chapter 21

**You guys, song fic is freaking hard! I stole this prompt from Imagine OQ's Twitter thinking I could bang it out in a couple hours. Nope. I had this awesome music video in my head that has proven very difficult to get into words that aren't forced or horrendously out of character so I kept adding more and more, but now I think I may have lost the song. Ugh. I'm still not 100% confident about it, but here goes.**

 **OQ to Lady Antebellum's Need You Now for _Chocapic31_**

 **Set after Robin comes back from New York and assuming we weren't immediately thrown into Author Land.**

* * *

He'd left her on the sidewalk in front of the diner; or rather she'd left him. It had been a whirlwind couple of days to put it mildly. He'd lost his wife (never truly had her back it turns out) and gotten his soulmate back. But now Robin is wondering if the latter is true. She'd thrown herself into his arms in that dingy hallway, clung to him as he held her in kind. Solid and real and his and everything that had felt wrong since the moment he was forced away from her suddenly righted itself. But the moment couldn't hold; there never seemed to be a now for them, always too much then and after getting in the way and mucking things up.

He's still standing on the sidewalk holding his sleeping son when Will walks by with the familiar grin on his face. "You look like a man that could use a drink and perhaps a bench to lay the lad down on? My treat," he announces. Before Robin can think to accept or decline he's being ushered inside. Will shares a cocky wink with the girl behind the counter who rolls her eyes and puts in his usual order without comment while Robin situates Roland into the back booth, grateful that he's always been such a heavy sleeper. "So why aren't you with Regina, then?" Will's direct as always and Robin both despises and appreciates his friend's inability to beat around the proverbial bush.

"She asked me to give her space," Robin tells him while gladly accepting the ale sat before him. "What else could I do but give it?" He looks defeated, so close to having everything he ever wanted back within his grasp yet it may as well be realms away.

"Is that okay?" Will asks, suddenly serious.

"I honestly don't know."

* * *

Emma lingers after she drops Henry off with Regina. She's been doing that more and more lately, lingering, and Regina can't decide if she's grateful for or annoyed by it. Either way, Emma Swan helps herself to the liquor cabinet and plops herself down on Regina's couch. Its then she realizes that Regina's house shouldn't be so empty. "Where's Robin?" she looks around the room, honestly expecting him to be standing somewhere.

"I…he…I think he's with his Merry Men. I'm sure he's happy to be back with them." Regina thinks she recovers well, but keeps her back to the look she's certain Emma is giving her.

"I'm sure he is." Emma says after a moment of silence that begins to grow uncomfortable. "Why isn't he here?

"It's complicated," Regina uses her no-nonsense Madame Mayor voice hoping to end this conversation before it starts.

"It's really not. You love him." Emma has no intention of backing down. Few people dare stand up to Regina's walls, fortunately for the queen one of them is currently drinking her liquor. "Don't even try to deny it because I know you. I saw you without him and I saw you when you threw yourself into his arms, Regina. Don't punish him. Don't punish yourself. Life's too short."

"Its not that simple, Emma." The liquor loosens her normally tight lips, although she's barely on her second drink. Maybe it's this strange friendship forming between them. Maybe she just needs to talk. So she talks, unanswerable questions spill from somewhere she thought she'd locked away. "What if he leaves again? What if I lose him again? I won't be able to take it; I don't know if I can take it as it is. I let myself love and I get hurt."

"Better to hurt now and then than feel nothing at all." Emma's sincere, but the eye roll Regina gives her for her hope-filled statement turns the blonde into a giggling mess.

"You really are a Charming, aren't you?" Regina all but snorts into her drink and they both spend the next few minutes reigning in uncontrollable laughter that has been far too absent from both of their lives.

"What did you say to him," Emma finally manages when they've settled back into the couch with freshened drinks. "When you left him at Grannies, what did you say?"

"I asked him to give me spaces," she confesses quietly, guiltily. "He gave it." Regina stares intently at the wall, looking disappointed and if Emma knows her as well as she thinks, scared.

"Is that okay?" Emma asks, studying the brunette's face.

"I honestly don't know."

* * *

They talk for a while about nothing really. How the city differs so much from this sleepy town, how Roland had still slept like a champ, but Robin woke with every car horn or slammed door. Robin doesn't mention Marion (or rather Zelena) and his friend mercilessly doesn't ask. Instead, Will fills him in on what he's missed: the sexy new villains in town, the legitimate and fairly well-paying job he's gotten himself, and his budding romance with one Belle French. Robin congratulates him. The sentiment is genuine even if his delivery lacks the enthusiasm it probably should. If Will minds Robin's melancholy he makes no mention of it, only finishes his drink and dinner, leaves a stack of bills on the table and tosses his spare key at Robin. "Guessing you and the lad will be needing a place to stay for a bit," he answers Robin's raised brow as he slides out of the booth, leans over the back behind Robin and lifts Roland into his arms. "We'll be off to bed then. Don't do, or not do, anything you'll regret."

And with that Robin is alone. He hadn't noticed the diner emptying out. He didn't see Granny Lucas leaving him a bottle of whiskey on the counter and a napkin scribbled with: _Don't steal anything. My arrows don't miss either._ Robin can't help but laugh, stuffing the napkin in his pocket and pouring himself a healthy shot. He can't help is eyes from looking every few moments to the closed door, wishing for nothing more than her to come sweeping in like she had before when they would meet for a quick lunch with their sons or a quiet drink without them. But the door remains closed.

He can't stop thinking about her. As he takes another shot, he finds himself staring at his phone. It didn't matter that he made a show of deleting her contact for 'Marion', the sequence of numbers that allowed him hear her voice whenever he wished was one he would never forget. He enters it now, her voice is a balm to his breaking heart, but it's her voice only. A message he realizes after long seconds of pouring out his heart; she's not taking his call.

* * *

Emma stays later than usual and for once Regina's certain she's grateful for the other woman's company, but she needs a moment alone. Explaining that she simply needs to get out of the dress she's wore for two days, she disappears upstairs leaving Emma curled on the sofa. She shouldn't have had that second drink, or the one after that. The fresh one in her hand should definitely be poured down the drain as soon as she gets back downstairs, but she brings it to her lips instead. It's a quarter after one in the morning the morning and she's a little drunk as she makes her way down the hall to her bedroom. Parent of the year, she thinks as she peeks in on Henry, holding the door frame just a bit to keep the room from tilting. She should have let him stay with Emma if she was going to be this much of a mess. But she wanted him here, needed someone else with her tonight since she wouldn't let Robin and Roland follow her home. And why was that again?

Because he left you, that derisive part of her mind tells her as she sits at the edge of her bed and pulls their taped together storybook page from her nightstand draw. A picture perfect memory that was never meant to be. He chose you, the better part of her reminds herself. He chose you before he had to leave. You made him leave. She grabs for the phone before her insecurities outweigh the whiskey courage running through her veins and starts talking the moment she hears his voice. A message she realizes after long seconds of pouring out her heart; he's not taking her call.

* * *

 _That's it then_ , the resentful voice in his head chastises. _You walked away. You let her walk away._ The phone shatters against the wall behind the counter setting off a chain reaction Robin is powerless to stop. Glasses shatter, plates fall to the floor, and a crossbow-wielding Mrs. Lucas appears out of nowhere flipping on the lights and throwing a string of curses he'd never be able to repeat.

"I'll clean it all up. And I'll pay for the damages," he interrupts her hastily, launching over the counter to begin sorting through the broken dishes.

"Damn right you will," she snarls at him, jabbing the crossbow into his shoulder. " _After_ you get off your ass and fix yourself." Robin looks up at the older woman in confusion to which she only rolls her eyes at. "Go get her you fool. Wake her up and tell her you love her and all that other stuff you two never get a chance to." She jabs him again when he remains frozen on her floor, broken dishes in hand. "Now, dear." Her tone softens, but the toe of her boot does not as it prods not so gently at his ribs.

Robin finally gets the hint.

This is madness, he's certain. It's a quarter after one. She's asleep. He absolutely should not go banging on her door in the middle of the night. Should not wake her and her son and potentially half of the town while shouting up to her window all the reasons that she is to horribly wrong to shut him out of her life. He shouldn't ignore her request for space, but as he heads out of the diner and down the deserted street that will take him to her, Robin doesn't give a damn about what he shouldn't do.

* * *

"Straight to voicemail," Regina's biting back frustrated tears when she returns to the couch in the dress she forgot she was supposed to change out of. She tosses the phone at Emma to be rid of the evidence of the broken connection. "What did I do?" she asks, knowing the answer. What she's always done: destroy happiness even if it's her own.

"Go." Emma is up and taking Regina's half empty drink from her hand, pulling her to her feet and walking her towards the door. "I'll stay here with Henry. Go find him. Fix it."

"What if he's asleep?" She's stalling, they both know it.

"Wake him up. Go. Now." Emma pushes her out onto the porch and closes the door behind her. Regina stumbles her first few steps more from her uncertainty than the drink, but before she knows where she's going she's already halfway to Grannie's.

He hears her before he sees her on the dark street, heals clicking quickly against the blacktop. They meet in the middle, a few feet apart, both silently staring at the other until Robin decides he's spent entirely too much time with space between them. He closes the gap in one step, wrapping her up in his arms and crashing his mouth to hers. Regina melts into his hold, answers his desperate kiss with her own hungry lips. "I need you." It echoes between them, uttered simultaneously when they part for breath. Then its breathless half confessions of ' _Robin, I…'_ and ' _Regina, please…'_ before they're laughing softly at words that don't need to be confessed and forgiveness that needn't be granted.

He pulls her to him again, weaving his fingers through her hair before kissing her lips, her cheeks, her jaw, her neck. The sensible part of Regina (the part that doesn't make out with the man she loves in the middle of the night under the streetlamps of Main Street) gnaws at her, fluttering in the back of her mind even while she is blissfully distracted by Robin's wandering lips and roaming hands. "We should…" she starts, but he's molded to her lips again and warning him seems less important. Without breaking their kiss she engulfs them in her magic, whisking them away to their own secluded haven in the forest.

"Much better," he murmurs against her mouth. He knows exactly where they are, can feel the shift in the ground beneath his feet, the smell of familiar forest in the air.

"I'm sorry," Regina blurts out in the quiet moment between soft kisses. "About before. I was stupid and scared and I pushed you away and I didn't want that. I don't want that."

Robin steps back just enough to cup her face, thumbs coming to rest over swollen lips, silencing her unneeded apologies. "I don't care about before. We've both mucked up the past, Regina. But you, this," he leans his forehead to hers, moves his thumbs from her lips to caress her cheeks, " _this_ is my future. _This_ here and now. And I need you in it."

There's a moment before she can speak, before she's sure she can even breathe. Because she doesn't get _this_ , never has and it seems too much just to give in to the hope that now could be forever. But he's looking at her with those damned blue eyes that see straight to her soul and he's holding her so tightly, yet so tenderly that she knows she never wants him to let go. "Okay, thief," she whispers in between her smile and gives in to hope.


	22. Stop

**I had this idea of why Regina cut her hair (I'm already in mourning over the loss of Lana's perfect locks thank you very much) and it got my Evil Charming feels flowing. Post season 5. BroTP EC, Mourning OQ**

* * *

She's barefoot and pajama clad in the kitchen when it hits her. Finally, fully, hits her: he's gone. Its nothing at all that breaks the walls she's painstakingly built up. The mundane rinsing of the breakfast dishes in the sink, the stray hair that wouldn't stay out of her eyes. He would have pulled it back. He would have stood behind her as she rinsed, or chopped, or stirred and held her hair. Run his fingers through inky locks, occasionally giving attention to her neck, her scalp, rubbed tired shoulders, but always returned to her hair. For a moment she smiles, leans her head back to rest against the shoulder that should be there, stands frozen with head tipped back when she realizes her error.

She drops the dishes in the sink, ignoring the clamoring of china against steel, and swipes her wet fingers through her hair. They stick at her nape, moisture instantly bringing the unruly curls she hides from everyone but the person who will never see them again. "Stop," she tells herself, untangling her fingers and wiping them roughly across her cheeks where unwelcome tears begin to fall. "Stop," again as she picks up the discarded plate and tries to steady the shake of her hands, the shutter of her breath.

It starts with his coffee cup, a gaudy mishmash of green and brown clay that would leak out the side if he tipped it the wrong way, but Roland had molded it all on his own and Robin would drink out of nothing else. It hit the wall, pieces disappearing behind the refrigerator, under the kitchen island. Her hand covers her mouth muffling the sob that escapes. There's a moment when she realizes what she's destroyed, when she can see Roland's quivering lip and watery eyes staring up at her. In the next moment she realizes her little knight is lost to her as well. The next sob is a full-throated, guttural thing that clinches her stomach.

Regina grabs the counter to keep herself upright, eventually leaning her weight on her forearms and letting her forehead fall to the cabinet. "Stop," she mouths, her shoulders shake as she holds her breath against the cries she won't let come. The wine glasses are inches from her face and she pulls one from its secured slot under the cabinet, turns it over and over in her hands. She feels his fingers wrap around hers, remembers how he would take the glass from her hands, setting it aside so he could pull her closer without spilling her merlot. She closes her eyes and hears him moan quietly in her ear as he would taste the wine from her lips. She lets the glass roll from her hand, keeps her eyes closed as she hears the fragile thing shatter at her feet. The other 7 quickly follow, swiped blindly into the air and crashing against the counter and floor.

She sees the whiskey tumblers next. They know too many secrets, have witnessed him quieting too many of her of her fears. They were there making the hard conversations easier, easing them into sleep when their minds had been too frantic to let them rest. She always held his hand when they drank whiskey, it was an automatic gesture. She watches her left reach for his as her right curves around the thick glass. "Stop!" she screamed hurling the tumbler across the counter. It collides with the canisters, toppling sugar and coffee, spoons and spatulas.

He's still here, still everywhere, although he'll never be anywhere again. She still feels his warm breath against her neck, surprisingly soft lips against that spot behind her ear, nimble fingers forever weaving through her hair. "Stop," she begs his memory as she buries her fingers in her hair and pulls to the point of pain before slamming her palms against the counter. The strands will never know his touch again, gentle fingers will never again caress her into sleep. Kitchen shears are in her shaking hands before she even thinks to look for them amongst the fallen utensils, dark curls fall to white marble before she realizes she's begun to cut. She doesn't see anything through the tears blurring her vision, doesn't hear over the blood pounding in her ears, doesn't feel anything at all but empty.

* * *

He's walking up to the porch when he sees her through the kitchen window. She's shaking so violently he's not sure how she's still on her feet. He doesn't bother knocking; he doesn't bother shutting the door that she never bothers to lock. He's at her side in seconds, wrapping strong arms across her shoulders. "Stop!" he yells so close his lips brush her cheek, but David can tell his voice doesn't register. "Regina, stop!" He's got a better hold on her now, has her arms pinned to her chest as he's prying her fingers apart and tossing the shears into the sink behind them. But the damage is done. Her locks speckle the counter, the floor, breaking up the stark white of her normally spotless kitchen. A few still clinging to the sleeves of her t-shirt as if they haven't realized they're no longer attached.

She flinches in his hold, jerks her foot up and for a moment they both stare down at the small cut and the thin line of blood beginning to flow across her bare foot. He hadn't even noticed the glass before, but now David is acutely aware of the crunch under his boots. He moves his arms lower on her waist, holds her up just a bit more as she continues to stare blankly at the floor. Something flies by the window; David catches a glimpse of it out of the corner of his eye. Its then he realizes that he should move them. There aren't many visitors to the mayoral mansion, but the image of the former queen tear stained and swollen, hanging in the prince's arms, with her hastened haircut is certainly something the rest of the town need not see.

He makes to move her, turns slightly so at least his back is to the window and he can shield her from the outside world. It causes a single drop of blood to fall from her still raised foot. Something in her snaps when the droplet lands on her discarded hair. Regina screams, slams her foot down into the broken glasses and tries to push away from his hold. She screams again when the shards slice into her skin, again when David doesn't spare a second before hoisting her gracelessly into the air. He puts her down on the dining room table, again pins her arms to her sides, and presses his body into her legs to stop her thrashing. "Stop!" David holds her tightly. "Regina, stop. I'm not going to hurt you. Stop!"

"Why!" she screams it at him and the ferocity of it has him slacking his grip, but only slightly. "Everyone hurts me! Everything hurts me! You want me to stop? I can't. I'm trying and I can't, David. They're gone, but they won't leave. They're everywhere in this damn house, this godforsaken town, my head, my heart… I want it to stop. Make it stop!" She breaks. The thin, cracked shell that had been holding her together shatters and she's left raw and exposed. David says nothing; there is nothing that can be said. She's staring into his eyes, pleading for there to be a simple end to this suffocating grief, knowing nothing is ever simple.

He releases her arms and she collapses against his chest. David takes half a step back, just enough to untangle their limbs before resituating himself to hold her without holding her down. Her feet are bleeding, he notices as he moves her legs into a more comfortable position than the contorted one he placed her down in. And her hair…he runs his hand along her neck, pulling out what has been cut but has yet to fall. It's above her shoulders now, most of it at least. She hadn't quite got to the left side before he'd interrupted her. There's a few spots that are almost to her scalp, he feels out the different lengths as his fingers massage her nape.

"Is it bad?" she sniffs against him, hasn't moved an inch since the fight left her.

"Horrible," he admits, smoothing down the back of her head repeatedly. "You never were one to do something halfway." She almost laughs at that, it comes out in a more of a wet sigh, but David can feel her coming back. "Where's your first aid kit and some sharper scissors?" he asks, still cradling her against him.

"Upstairs." Her grip tightens on his shirt. "Can we stay here a little longer?" she asks weakly. She's terrified to move and it's ridiculous. But it's quiet here, safer than she's felt since everything went to hell, and if there's a moments peace to be found sitting on her dining room table with David's arms around her who is she to question it?

"As long as you need," his grip tightens as hers relaxes. David rests his chin against the top of her head, content for now to just let her be.

* * *

"Okay," she announces after what was probably a ridiculous amount of time to make David stand in one spot, but he isn't complaining so she resigns herself to take his compassion for what it is. He unwraps his arms from around her back, runs his hands down her arms and squeezes her hands before stepping back. Regina starts scooting off the table when David places his hands on her knees, stopping her movement. "What?" she asks only getting a grin and cocked eyebrow in response as he hooks his arm under her knees. "I appreciate you helping me David, but I'm not an infant. I can walk just fine." Regina stiffens. He may have carried her in here, may have held her while she cried herself dry, but she has to draw the line somewhere and being carried up to her bedroom was where she will make her stand. Or so she thought.

"No, you can't," he says simply as he lifts her legs until she's forced to grab onto him to keep from toppling over. Her quiet _Oh_ , tells David that she realizes that the glass likely still embedded in her feet. She wraps her arms around his neck as he lifts her off the table and heads upstairs.

"Second door on the left," she tells him once she realizes why he's stopped at the top of the stairs. He walks straight through the bedroom and into her en suite, setting her down on the edge of the tub, holding her until she finds her balance without having to put her feet down. "Under the sink," she tells him before he asks and David pulls out peroxide, tweezers, and bandages. He settle on the toilet, pulls her bloody foot into his lap, and gets to work. "Thank you," she says once her cuts are treated, one foot wrapped thickly with bandages.

"Try not to put too much weight on that one for a few days," he instructs as he packs up the kit and tucks it back under the sink.

"David," her voice was firm, causing the prince to meet her eyes. "Thank you," she says again.

"I heard you the first time, Regina. There's nothing to thank me for. You needed help. Friends help." Her eyes water again, but for entirely different reasons. They were friends, he was one of her closest friends, but she still wasn't used to this concept of people caring. "Scissors?" he questions, snapping her away from the demons in her head.

"What on earth are you going to do with scissors?"

"I'll have you know, I was a shepherd before I was a prince, Your Majesty." David ignores her skepticism, opening drawers at random and rummaging through them.

"Is that so?" she feigns shock at his admission.

"I've sheared many a sheep in my day."

"I am not a sheep." She shifts from the tub to the toilet for a better seat.

"Hair is hair." He can tell she's not convinced. "I can at least make it even enough for you to go to the salon and have someone else make it queen worthy."

"I didn't mean…" She hadn't meant to hurt his feelings. The sarcasm just comes out.

"I know," he assures her with a smile. "Where's your scissors?" She leans forward, pulling open the bottom drawer of her vanity and placing the rarely used object in his hand. They go quiet after that, the only sound is the scissors coming together as he deftly shapes her hair. He starts with the longest side, cutting until it's mostly even with the rest then sets about trimming the random sections that she'd missed.

It's a good half of an hour of him tilting and turning her head, of wetting and combing, stepping back and leaning in. "How did I do?" he asks when finally satisfied with her cut. He hands her the mirror on her vanity and watches with a self-satisfied smirk as her eyes widen in surprise and she runs her fingers through her hair. It's cropped at her chin, layered up a bit in the back to hide where she's practically bald, and feathering slightly to frame her face. It looks…well, it looks damn good.

She turns to him and her smile is genuine for the first time in far too long. "I'm impressed, Charming. Perhaps the Sheriff's station isn't the right career for you."

"I have many hidden talents."

"Thank you."

"You've said that already. Twice."

"It's worth repeating. Not many people would do this for me."

"More people than you think, Regina. I wish you'd start believing that. I'd thought Robin had just about gotten it through your head that people can and do care about you." He regrets the words the minute they're out of his mouth. He shouldn't have said that, shouldn't have brought her lost love up only moments after she'd finally stopped trembling with her grief for him. He's ready to wrap her up in his arms again, but instead of crumbling, she softly smiles.

"He did drill it into my head daily, hourly sometimes," she's still playing with the ends of her hair, but her mind has gone somewhere else for the moment. David leaves her to the memory, setting about putting her bathroom back in order until she's talking again. "I haven't had it this short since the first curse. Robin liked it longer," she confesses almost shyly. It was hardly a revelation; the thief always had his hands in her hair in whatever realm they happened to be in. "When we came back here, when we got our memories back, I could tell he was missing it. I wasn't going to grow it back to my waist, but just below my shoulders seemed like a reasonable compromise." It shouldn't be so easy to talk to him like this. She doesn't share things about herself, especially things she considers so intimate. But David's told her time and again that he's here, has been here, and it feels good to be able to talk about Robin with someone who will simply listen. "I miss him. Both of them."

"I know." He drops his hands to her shoulders, squeezing there a moment before taking a seat on the edge of the tub. She shifts to face him. "You know, Emma and Zelena think we can keep the door open to the Enchanted Forest. Roland can come here or you could-"

"I don't know if that's a good idea," she stops him mid-sentence, looking quickly at anything but the confused look on his face.

"The portal or Roland?" he asks, concerned about her answer and what her reasoning could possibly be.

"He'll be better off just forgetting me." It's a whisper, one he wouldn't have heard if it hadn't echoed around the tiled walls.

"He won't forget you, Regina. You were his mother for almost 3 years. He adores you. And you'll see Robin again too. Stop." He puts a finger to her lips before she can voice her protest. "I don't care what Hades said. I don't believe it and neither do you."

"I don't?" she asks with his hand still on her face. She wants not to believe it, wants it desperately, but she's still not sure she can.

"No," he tells her firmly, "you don't. Because my wife has finally gotten to you and you have hope." Regina can only nod. She knows her voice will break again and she's too exhausted for another breakdown. David sees it: the bone-tired weariness that seems to have suddenly engulfed her. "When's the last time you slept?" he asks, squeezing her knee.

He watches her turn the question over in her mind, can see her memory going back and back. "Camelot?" it comes out as a question, but she's not expecting him to answer. "After the ball and before we found out Arthur was a sociopath. I think I slept pretty well those few nights." She laughs and it breaks his heart.

"To bed with you," he orders, scooping her up again (before she can tell him how 'just fine' she can walk on freshly bandaged feet) takes her the few steps to her bed and plops her in the center of it.

"It's the middle of the afternoon." She protests, but it's weak. Her mind and body are beyond tired and the mattress beneath her is a welcome feeling. "Henry will be home from school in a couple hours," she turns on her side and reaches to set the alarm to give herself enough time to get everything back in order before her son comes home.

David pulls it out of her reach. "I'll pick him up and take him to Grannies. You may join us later if you're up."

"I'm his mother," she argues, but she's already fighting to keep her eyes open.

"I'm his grandfather," he counters, pulling the duvet over her and turning off the bedside lamp. She props herself up again, despite her own body's protest, but David easily pushes her back to the pillows. "Stop. Sleep," he tells her quietly, tucking her freshly trimmed tresses behind her ear.

"Thank you, David," she mumbles on the edge of sleep. It may be needless, but she'll tell him as often as she can.

"You're welcome, Regina." He closes her bedroom door and heads back downstairs.

* * *

When she wakes hours later the sun has set. She hears Henry's laughter from downstairs, David's groan, and the sound of revving engines. It takes her a few minutes to figure out that they're playing Henry's new video game and is that pizza she smells? On cue her stomach growls loudly, a friendly reminder that she'd slept through lunch and coffee hadn't been enough of a breakfast. She eases out from under the blankets and flicks on the light, laughs outright at the pair of crutches leaning against her nightstand with a note stating simply USE THEM.

She takes a few practice laps around her bedroom. She's unsteady, never used these things before, but the cut on her foot had been deep and for at least a couple days she will humor him and hobble. She makes it to the top of the stairs, instantly deciding that she'll have more than an injured foot if she attempts the descent and poofs herself into the kitchen.

It's spotless. The only evidence of her morning melt down is the empty rack where the wine glasses hung. There isn't a thing out of place except for the misshapen mug and a bottle of glue on the island. Her tears come again, quick and hot spilling down her cheeks. She's wiping them away when Henry comes into the kitchen for another soda his grandfather is letting him indulge in.

"Mom!" he startles at the sight of her. She's got her tears under control, but Henry still stares at her face, her hair she realizes. She's going to have to explain the obvious change. "I like it," he finally declares, stepping closer and pulling her into a hug. "Are you feeling better? Grandpa said you fell at the salon and cut your foot."

Of course he did. Of course David would come up with a perfectly logical explanation that wouldn't have Henry asking questions she wasn't ready to answer. She is eternally grateful for it. "Much better," she smiles and nods and asks "Grab one for me to?" lifting a crutch in each hand in defeat.

"No problem."

She follows her son into the living room, falling onto the couch next to David as Henry places her drink in her hand and a plate of pizza in her lap and goes back to set up the next match. She leans slightly into David's shoulder, not enough for Henry to notice, but enough to get the prince's attention.

"Stop," he moved his arm to the back of the couch, causing her to lean further into him. "If you thank me one more time I'm going to announce to everyone in Storybrooke that the queen sleeps in Mickey Mouse pajamas. She hears the snap of his phone's camera and whips her head to the arm not so innocently resting behind her back.

"I'll destroy you." She fixes him with her most menacing evil queen glare, but she can't hold it against the smile pushing its way through. "Henry, give me that," she holds her hand out for the third controller. "I need to show your grandfather how things are done." She's smiling as she situates herself on the couch in preparation to thoroughly humiliate them both. For the moment she can be content, happy even in this simple act that means so much.

For a moment all the pain and the sadness stops.

* * *

reviews make me smile :)


	23. Time to Stay

**I have absolutely no idea what this is or where it came from, but I wanted to play on OutlawQueen Day and this is what came of it. It feels Missing Year. Enjoy!**

* * *

"Could you stay?" her voice is so quiet against the rage of the storm that it must be some kind of magic that carries it to his ears. When he turns back she's nearly broken; her hands grip the edge of the vanity so tightly the tiny bottles that litter the top shake with the tremors that consume her. He wants to ignore her, wants nothing more than to walk away from this infuriatingly stubborn woman and her snide remarks and endless scorn, to finally turn his back on her walls that he has been trying to scale and admit defeat.

Robin's tired of chasing her, tired of her fighting what he knows she feels. He can see it in her eyes when they try to cut him down. It's those eyes that stop him tonight, that have him walking back to her, prying her fingers from the table's edge and pulling her to his chest. She's stiff as a board against him, shoulders strained, jaw set firm. "You asked me to stay, Regina," he leans in close, speaks directly into her ear. "You know you're safe with me."

"Why?" she's muffled with her face pressed against his chest, hands gripping the fabric of his shirt tighter and tighter with every clap of thunder. She hates him for seeing her like this; she hates him for coming back with more force each and every time she's pushed him away; she hates that he can see through her ire and feigned indifference; she hates him for being the only one she wants to be near when her tortured mind and her battered heart join forces to extinguish her light.

"Because while I may have been a thief once upon a time, I would never take what you're not yet ready to give." He rests his chin atop her head, runs one hand up and down her spine in a steady, soothing rhythm; the other gently cups the back of her neck, fingers flexing to weave in and out of the hair that has fallen lose form her ever elaborate styles. He likes her like this, a bit disheveled, a bit less false.

"Robin, I…" she flattens her hands against his chest and pushes back. It's too close, he's too close, but somehow not nearly close enough. She takes half a step back and tilts her head up enough to look in his eyes. They're kind; they're always kind, even when she's needlessly cruel. She doesn't know what to do with kindness. It scares her more than the storm raging just outside these walls, more than the storm raging in her heart. She needs to get away. As she thinks it, his hold instantly loosens around her, giving her freedom to stay or go. She stays, hovers for a bit in the space between his chest and his arms.

"You're not ready," he finishes so that she doesn't have to hear the defeat in her own voice. "Another valuable lesson I learned from my years of thievery, was patience. And that sometimes you have to wait for what's important." He eases his hands back up to her shoulders, lets them rub up and down her arms when she makes no move to pull away (or burn him to a crisp). "It's all about timing."

He's impossible, but yet he's here. Hasn't given up on her and worse, won't let her give up on herself. "What time is it for you, Thief?" she tries to find the sarcasm, but she's simply too tired to sort through her many facades.

"Time to stay," he kisses into her forehead, arms circling tightly around her trembling frame.

She slides her palms up his chest to his shoulders, wrapping around his neck and pulls herself flush against him just as lightning strikes dangerously close and the castle walls shake with the force of the thunder.


	24. ink

**I want a new tattoo, so this happened. Set immediately after the S5 finale.**

* * *

She'd needed space. There were too many people in his small apartment and she felt like the walls were closing in. There were too many memories there in the first place, too much or Robin that was hastily left behind when they had returned to Storybrooke. She couldn't bear to be with it, couldn't handle them all looking at her as if she would breakdown at any moment. When she announced she was going for a walk and sped out the door, Emma chased her down the hall and forbade her to go out at night on her own.

"Just around the block," she'd practically pleaded, begging her friend to understand that she couldn't let them see her like this. "Just long enough to be able to breath." Although breathing isn't something she ever thinks she'll do again. The air doesn't seem to fill her lungs the way it did when he was here, when his hand warmed hers, when his fingers pulled tangles lose from her hair. "I just need to not be here," she'd confessed and knew Emma understood. The apartment that had been Robin's had also been Neal's; there were layers of memories covered in paint and dust that neither woman wanted to face or forget.

Emma doesn't know if it's the desperation in the queen's voice or the pain in her eyes, but she's forcing her phone in to Regina's hands, bidding her to "Be careful." Adding, "If you're not back in an hour I'm sending everyone out looking for you," as Regina answers her threat with a grateful nod and disappears down the hall.

Regina took a deep breath the moment the night air hit her shin, then she walked. Turned corner after corner, looked in windows of diners and bodegas, thumbed through magazines at newsstand, and somehow ended up here.

She doesn't know what possesses her to do it. She's never once thought about getting a tattoo in this realm or any other. She's hidden enough scars over the years not to want anymore, but here she is in the 'parlor' that smells like incense and rubbing alcohol flipping through a leather bound portfolio while Spike (she wonders what came first, his name or the sliver metal spikes sticking through disproportionately large ear lobes) is setting up his station in the back corner. She's taken aback by his appearance at first, figures most that aren't from his world would be, but he has kind eyes and made her feel at ease the moment she stumbled through his door at 3 am, nervous in this strange world without magic that differs so drastically from her sleepy little costal town.

He comes back up to her when he sees she's not actually looking at the samples she's flipping through; her head is in the book, but her mind is elsewhere. He pulls the it from her hands, waits a moment for her to meet his eyes. "Who did you lose?" he asks.

She'll never know why, but Regina spends the next several minutes pouring out her heart to this tattooed stranger. He doesn't say anything else, doesn't offer comfort or condolences, just grabs a pad of paper and begins sketching. When they're both satisfied, he helps her lay on her side with her sweater rucked up. She's still fully covered, he's made sure of that, and she smiles her appreciation for his steady hands that do not wander. She flinches at the first buzz of the needle, the sound echoing through the otherwise quiet space.

"The sound is the worst part," he assures her and offers to turn on music to help drown out the noise of the machine. She tells him 'sure' (in a voice that shakes too much for her liking), because it's entirely too quiet and she is starting to hear herself think. Expecting some unintelligible grunge music, her eyes go wide when the notes of Scheherazade fill the room. He only smiles at her wide eyed surprise. As he leans closer to begin his work she sees the words _lest ye be judged_ running down his arm in an elegant script.

She closes her eyes and relaxes under his touch as he brings the buzzing needle to her ribs over and over. It hurts, but not like she expected. In fact, she's grateful for the constant burn; it reminds her that she can feel something other than empty.

It's over quickly; Spike was true to his word. She's wiped off and bandaged up, just as the last notes of the lone violin float through the air. They both hold their breath to sustain the emotion until the vibrato fades to a deafening silence.

The moment is shattered by the ringing of her phone. She fumbles through her pockets to silence it only for it to begin ringing again then beeping with the arrival of text messages and voicemails. "It seems you are needed," Spike laughs at the ire in her eyes. She's barely past her predetermined hour and if any of them think that she'll be subject to a curfew they've another thing coming.

It rings again, SAVIOR, her phone displays and she punches the screen to answer with enough force to break. "What Emma!"

The artist continues to watch her, maybe he should give her some privacy, but it is his shop after all. He can't count the emotions that cross her face as she listens silently to whatever this Emma is telling her. Her grip is white-knuckled around the phone, she's breathing faster and faster, and her body sways slightly before he leans her against the counter with a hand at her elbow. "You have to go," he tells her as she lowers the phone with a shaking hand. She's nodding, but he's not sure she's aware of anything at the moment.

Regina won't remember him putting her coat back on her; she won't remember him asking where she stays and tripping over her words until he pieces together that it's the building 3 blocks north. She won't remember him walking her out into the street, up those blocks, then up 4 flights of stairs until he's knocking at a nondescript apartment door. She'll only remember that door opening to him. Piercing blue eyes flooded with relief when he takes her in, dimples deeply set into stubbled cheeks as he smiles and pulls her into his arms then into the apartment, closing the door to the stranger he hadn't even noticed.

When Spike returns to his shop he can feel a change he can't quite describe. The air is charged, everything feels more alive somehow. There is no doubt in his mind that the man he delivered his client to (he'd never even asked her name) was the same that her tears had fallen for. He knows he was part of something, some magic still to be found in this cruel world.

* * *

 **Part 2 (because I found out Sean was coming back and it made me happy.)**

* * *

There in bed, spooned together, when his hand comes to rest as it always does, curling around her ribs just below her breast. She flinches, barely, but he notices nonetheless.

"What is it?" he asks, lifting his palm away from her.

"Nothing. It's nothing. I forgot about it, actually. It's just a silly little…" she rambles, linking their hands, bringing his back to wrap around her.

"Regina?" he asks again because she's clearly avoiding the issue. "A silly little what?"

"I got a tattoo," she blurts out. Then explains, "In New York. Before you-," she can't help but laugh at herself. When did she become this nervous person? Especially with him? Never with him. "I got a tattoo in New York right before you figured out how to get back," she tells him, pulling herself back together. "It's where I was when you showed up at the apartment."

"May I see?" he asks, but he's already reaching to turn on the bedside light and his fingers have slipped under the t-shirt she wears. It's his, he notices, and wonders if she'd slept in it the entire time he's been gone, but makes no mention of it just yet. Regina pulls her arms to cover her face. She's suddenly embarrassed, bashful even. She'd never intended anyone to see this new part of her.

His hand splays against her stomach; the other bunches the shirt near her armpit so he can get a proper look. It's small, delicate, a silhouetted bird perched upon a black-lined arrow resting just below her breast, just where he held—holds. He stares at it longer than it would take to admire the simple design; seeing everything behind its meaning. He shifts a bit higher, bends his head and places his lips to her marked flesh. Leaves them there, breathing against her "It's perfect."

"I needed it," she tells him, arms now resting over her head so she can look down at him. "But you're here now so I guess I don't need it anymore." She smiles at him, pulls at his shoulders until he leaves her ribs for her lips, kissing there before settling on the pillow beside her.

"I like that I'm a part of you," he breathes against her as he maneuvers his arm under her neck, his hand holding just below the new tattoo.

"You always will be," she assures him, fitting herself more securely into his side as sleep begins to cloud her mind. "Promise me you'll never be a memory," she whispers against his arm, against his own ink that marks him as hers.

He sighs into her hair. Won't answer, can't. And she knows he can't, knows he won't ever lie to her and to promise her such a thing would mean inevitably breaking a promise. Whether it's another tragedy that fate seems fit to bestow upon them, or inevitable, but blissful old age, they will part again. So he stays quiet, presses closer against her back, squeezes her just that much tighter, whispers 'I love you,' into her hair. It's enough.


	25. Reason To Stay

_Hollie's (outlawqueenbey) adorable, heartbreaking doodle got me out me out of my writing funk. If you haven't seen them, you're missing out on life._

 _Sorry for the pain._

* * *

 **A Reason to Stay**

She makes it through every day with her head held high, spine straight and determined, calm and concise and diligent. At night she comes apart. Layer by layer of defenses peel away as she retreats to her room, removes heals and tailored suits, painstakingly chosen jewelry, and layers of makeup that hide the evidence of her sleepless nights from the world. He watches her every time, watches as the guises of the day come off and she settles back into her new self, back into her grief.

He'd hoped she'd have found peace by now, it has been months since he was ripped away. Hoped, yet somehow knew she would not. He knows that's why he's still here, why he lingers watching over her day after day, night after night, waiting for the moment he feels her safe enough to leave alone, hating himself for wishing she'll never give him a reason to leave.

He watches as she climbs into their bed, pulling cool blankets around her in an attempt to soothe what his arms no longer can. He listens to her breathe; the only sound in the room; the only life in her too empty home. Her breaths go deeper, begin to shutter, and he knows that strangled sobs will soon follow.

"Oh, M'lady," his fingers run unfettered through her hair as he talks to her. He always talks to her, hoping somehow she will hear. "I vowed to never be the cause of your tears. But instead, to spend my days erasing the need for them." He traces her cheekbone, her jaw, brushes his thumb over lips pursed together to contain the sound of her need for him. "I'll eternally know the sensation of your skin, warm against mine; the taste of your lips as you allowed me to kiss away those treacherous tears: warm salt, yet sweet, and wholly you. Always you. I wish I knew how to take this away." His hands continue to ghost against her skin as his body longs to hold her close.

"Robin?" she asks the darkness, voice unrecognizable even to her own ears. She's tired, so tired, but if she holds on she'll feel him. In the seconds before her body gives in, she always feels him wrapped around her, breathing against her. It's a trick of the mind, she knows, but she lives for it.

"I'm here, my love. And I'll be here with you as long as you'll have me." His lips brush her temple, linger there as wet lashes flutter against his cheek.

"I miss you," she breathes as sleep begins to claim her. She reaches out for the arm she can't see, but senses all the same. Her "stay" is barely audible, but he no longer needs words to hear her. He's in her mind, in her heart, and there he'll stay.


	26. Walks in the Forest

For OQ Artist Week on Twitter. Inspired by the amazing and heartbreaking creation of DreamshadeIvy. Link will be on my twitter because I don't know how to do that on here (or if it's even possible.) Anywho... on to the pain. I hope I did it justice.

* * *

Regina walks in the forest at night, a shell of her former self. Her heart should ache, she should cry, scream, set fire to the timber surrounding her but she can't bring herself to feel anything. She's empty. Numb. The air is cool against her skin; winter's chill being carried in on autumn's gentle breezes. The sky is ominous; dark grey clouds swirl in the overcast sky as if their own battle of light and dark is about to begin. It gives everything an ethereal quality, makes shapes blur and strike contrast at the same time. The fog is thick tonight, another thing that shouldn't be at this time of day, but she doesn't notice, doesn't really need to see where she's going anyway. Her feet know this path well. She veers right avoiding a root she'd tripped over once. Since the day she'd landed hard in the dirt, laughing until she was breathless, until his concern for her abated and he'd hauled her up, kissed her smile and they'd walked on hand in hand. Since that day he'd steer her away from the hazard with a pull of her hand, a squeeze of her hip, her neck, whatever part of her he'd happen to be holding at the moment; he'd kiss the smile the memory always brought and they'd walk on.

The wind picks up again, tangling her curls and creeping under her collar. She tightens her coat, wraps her arms around herself to fend off the shiver. He would have kept her warm. He would have wrapped her in his scarf, chided her for not bringing her own, then eventually wrapped her in his arms as she soaked up every ounce of his heat, his love, him. The scarf is in her drawer. She can't part with it, but neither can she bear to see it, touch it, or worst of all to breath in the fading scent of him.

She stops when she reaches her destination. Their spot: the fallen log where she'd let down her walls, where they'd spent countless nights talking until the sun came up, just as many not talking. Where he'd held her and she him; where she'd confessed her fears and he his love for her. It was their sanctuary. A place where they could just be. Hidden. Safe. Alive. But he's dead now and she feels the same. Feels the void of a life that could have been (that was so very very) good.

It's quiet as she stares down at the log. (She still can't bring herself to sit without him at her side.) The forest has never been this silent. It's as if every creature, every rusting leaf is morning the loss of the man who made this his home. A single tear slips down her cheek, lingering. She closes her eyes and lets the rest of them soak into her lashes. "Where are you?" she whispers to the trees, to the stars, to the earth beneath her feet. There's a warmth on her neck, a gentle tug on the hair behind her ear and Regina's eyes flash open. She turns into the sensation, heart hammering in her chest, but there's nothing there but the trees. "Where are you!" she screams into the silence, fists balled up at her sides, tears freely tracking down her face, but gets only the echoes of her cry in return.

…

Robin leans his forehead to hers, watches as her posture goes from startled to defeated, as she slips her hands back into her pockets and starts her slow walk back to her empty home. She's still too raw, too lost in herself to find him, too disbelieving that he would still choose her over all else. Always. He knows that one day she will. One day she'll open up again, let herself feel all the love he so willingly gave, will accept that what he gave up for her he did without hesitation or regret. One day she'll see that he's always by her side.

Until then, Robin walks with her in the forest.


	27. Cold Hands, Warm Heart

**Taking it waaaaay back to 3B and the whole Marian vs the Snow Monster business. AU because I'm switching things up and getting to Robin making proper life choices much sooner. Also, Marian is Marian because as much as I absolutely adore Rebecca Mader (seriously, she is the most precious human on the planet) that whole Marian/Zelena/Dead Wife Baby Mama Drama should never have happened.**

* * *

Robin isn't quite sure what happened. One minute they'd been prone to attack what David had called the Snow Monster, the next an icy blast had knocked him on his ass and everything went black. He comes too with a groan. Whatever he landed on had been quite unforgiving, but he'll worry about the ache later. "Marian?" he grunts out as he gets to his feet. She'd been just behind him, but she's not among the rest of their group pulling themselves from the forest floor. "Marian," there's a breath of relief when he sees her just ahead and runs to her side. She's on her feet, bow in hand and his heart swells for the bravery of his stubborn wife. She takes his hand, but she's not looking at him. Her eyes are locked with…"Regina".

She's a vision in white as she stands there staring down his wife. "You saved me?" Marian questions her. And how could she? How could she think that Regina wouldn't save her life if given the chance? He remembers an instant later when he sees the hurt flash in Regina's eyes before the mask of cool defiance fits itself back into place. How could she not? Marian only knew the Evil Queen, spent many a day running from her Black Knights. She doesn't know Regina, has never met the woman that stands before them. "Maybe you're not a monster," Marian concedes, but there's still spite there.

Robin flinches at the moniker. Monster. The word that could cut Regina down; the thing she always feared she would again become.

"Maybe I'm not," her voice is even, controlled. "Welcome to Storybrooke, Marian." Too controlled. Robin knows something isn't right. She won't meet his eyes and as much as he's hurt her the last few days (intentional or otherwise) there is something very deliberate in the way she avoids his questioning eyes. He watches her closely as she turns and walks away. She's rubbing her hands, wringing them together over and over, has been since he'd regained consciousness. Her step wavers slightly as she puts more and more distance between them. He could blame the cool autumn air and her lack gloves for the former, the uneven terrain and her questionable choices in footwear for the latter, but he knows it's neither. Her hands are always warm (he's assumed a side effect of being able to hold fire in her hands) and she seems to always be surefooted in those spiked oddities she calls shoes. Something is wrong.

He doesn't get the chance to call after her again. She disappears in a cloud of purple smoke before he or Emma can catch up with her. "Please, stop running," he says to himself, thinks he does at least, but the look in Marian's eyes tells him that the words have been spoken; unable to be taken back. Does he want to? It's been a treasure having her back, his wife, the mother of his child, robbed of her life of her place in her son's life. He's grateful for whatever fateful intervention has brought her back to him, to them. But as much as she is still her: the headstrong, reckless, charismatic woman who so long ago stole his heart, he is no longer the nefarious outlaw. And while she'll always have a place in his heart, his soul belongs to another. "I'm so sorry," he tells his wife. Because he is. If life had been simpler, if the timing had been different, the thought of walking away from the woman he just got back would never have entered his mind. But those circumstances were not to be and he stares at the ground, a coward unable to meet the eyes of the woman he promised love and fidelity to.

"It's okay, Robin." The compassion in her voice tears him apart. He doesn't deserve it. "It's been years for you. A lifetime. And I'm happy…Robin look at me," Marian grabs his face between her hands and forces him to look into her eyes. It's how she won every argument during their marriage and the familiarity is not lost on him. "I'm happy that you found love again. I'm happy that Roland has… _someone_ in his life. I'll have work on that someone being her."

"I don't deserve you," his arms circle her waist and he pulls her close.

"You never have." She drapes her arms over his shoulders, nuzzles into his neck. This is goodbye, she knows, and she's grateful that she gets the chance to properly say it.

"I'll always love you." The words vibrate against her ear. She knows he speaks the truth; their love is different but will never diminish.

"You'd better," she straightens up and pushes him back a step before she changes her mind. "Now get out of here and go win back the heart of the Evil," she cuts herself off, "of Regina," she emphasizes the name that was a curse only moments ago. But it hadn't been moments, not for the rest of them. Robin loves this woman, this Regina. As does her son. Little John respects her. As much as she wishes she could cast that all aside, break the spell that she has them under, she knows the look in Robin's eyes to be true. He'd never looked at her quite that way; had loved her truly, but not with the raw intensity he harbors for Regina. He'd stay if she asked it, live his days in quiet misery by her side, but she loves him too much to hold him to the marriage of a ghost.

…

He finds her in her office, the third place he'd looked for her today. (It was the first yesterday, the second the day before that.) She's seems to have become as elusive to him as her smile, but no more. He's resolute to get through to her, to remind her that she was happy, that _they_ were happy. He wants desperately to get back to that.

Robin doesn't knock. He walks right through the door, right up to the couch she's perched on the edge of, the endless professions of love and pleas for forgiveness ready to burst from his lips, but he stops short when he sees her. He was right before; something is wrong. He drops to her knees and takes her hands in his. She pulls away, but he grips them again, folding them into his own. "You're hands are like ice, Regina." He rubs and rubs, but no amount of friction seems to affect them; her fingers remain icicles in his grasp.

"It's nothing," she tries to pull her hands away again, but he's got an iron grip on her. Or is she already weakening? "You should go," she says as forcefully as she can. She doesn't want him here, doesn't need him to see hurt, to see her sad, to patch up her wounds just to walk away and leave her broken again.

"It's not nothing," he insists. Gods above she is stubborn. "What happened?"

"The spell rebounded," the words are out of her mouth before she thought to stop them. She shouldn't have told him that. She shouldn't have told him anything. He has no right to her. She owes him nothing. But he's looking at her with those eyes and there is only concern there, only love. No, not love. He loves _her_ , his wife, but there is something in his eyes that has her softening if only slightly. "It's fine. It'll pass. Go be with your family." The pain in her eyes is like a blade to his chest. She's been hurt so many times emotionally, but also physically, and this time he is the cause. He will work forever to fix the former but the latter is more pressing.

"Let me help you," he releases one of her hands and brings it to her cheek. Her head leans automatically into the contact. "I'll start a fire, we'll get you warmed up in no time." Robin doubts very much that the solution is that simple, but he's at a loss and willing to try anything to rid her of this bone deep chill.

"That won't help, but thank you," she smiles sincerely. He cares. And even if he no longer loves her it's still so nice to have someone who cares.

"Tell me what will." He joins her on the couch, pulls the thin blanket from the back around her shoulders. Again, a vain gesture, but he has to do something.

"Time," she tells him, trying to keep the shiver from her voice. It's spreading quickly. "It'll dissipate on its own eventually."

"I'll stay," he wraps an arm around her shoulders and begins pulling her against his chest. She jerks herself away.

"I don't need a baby sitter, Robin!" Regina pulls her hands from his and pushes off the couch. She makes it three steps away from him before she shutters involuntarily, a violent thing that almost causes her to tumble to the floor. She curses her body for picking this exact moment to betray her. He's at her side in seconds, an arm around her waist, her hand back in his. She can no longer feel his fingers clutching at hers; her feet stay glued to the floor because she knows if she tries to move she'll topple over. It's a balancing act, one breath in the wrong direction and everything will come tumbling down. He needs to leave. He can't see her like this, not when he'll just leave again anyway.

"But you do need help!" he moves around her so that they're practically nose to nose. "Stop being so bloody stubborn!" He yells at her, he never yells, but he's panicked over losing her before he has the chance to get her back.

It's easier to fight; better to lash out than to feel. If he can yell, so can she. "I'm not being stubborn, I'm being realistic!" she spits back. "This is over!" she looks down to their hands still tightly joined. He's here out of pity, she tells herself. Out of a misplaced duty to take care of the wounded creature that is the queen. She'll have none of it, needs none of it. "Go back to your wife!" she rips her hands from his, shoves her shoulder hard against the chest, and loses her footing. Damn it. Damn him. Damn everything.

He has the reflexes of one spent living on the run; he moves his body around hers, lowers them both, and lets his body break her fall. The hold is awkward. Arms and legs tangling together, his hands grabbing whatever part of her he could to prevent her injury has her skirt hiked up on one side, her jacket off one shoulder.

"Let me go," she wants it to be an order, but it comes out as a plea, even though she knows her body will crumple, even though she is desperate for his embrace.

"No," his voice is calm, not betraying the hammering of his heart. Regina squirms best she can against him but there's ice running through her veins now and her limbs won't respond the way she needs (but doesn't truly want) them too. "I'm not leaving you like this, Regina," he manages to get an arm under her knees, lifting her enough to straighten his legs and her own before settling her back between his thighs. He smooths down her skirt, avoiding the curves on full display that he's been starved to touch. Has it only been days since they were here? Since she'd laid her heart bear and his hands had explored every beautiful inch of her? So much has happened; so much wrong to make right. But she'll listen now. And if a rebounded spell is the only way to get her to be a captive audience, so be it.

She lets him touch her, not that she's in a position to put up a fight, or that she can still feel his touch against her frozen skin, but she'd let him touch her all the same. She trusts him. As he straightens out her clothes, moves her limbs around so that she's more comfortable against him, she knows that trust isn't misplaced. She wants to hate him for making this even more difficult, but she never will. She loves him to damn much. "Then stay," she whispers defeatedly. Even her breath is cold against him. Her body slumps, giving up all pretense of not wanting to fold herself into her embrace.

"I'm not leaving," his words wash over her and for the briefest of moments she lets herself hope. "I've been trying to tell you that for days, but you'll not stop running long enough to listen. This is a mess and it's probably going to get messier and complicated, but Regina, I'm not leaving." He's clinging to her, rocking them back and forth on her office floor. The room echoes the sounds of their shared unsteady breaths.

Her tears burn like lava as they streak down her cheeks, but his thumbs are they're wiping them away, soothing. Always soothing. Does he know he's a balm for her soul? She should tell him someday. Not now, but someday when she can speak without her teeth chattering around the words, someday when she'll believe that she can truly have _this_.

Her whole body is shivering now; he wraps arms and legs around her just to try to keep her still. But he can tell she's relaxed in his arms in spite of the curse tearing through her. "Tell me how I can help," he says again, because she's beginning to scare him and because he knows they can work through everything else later.

"Distract me," she stutters. "Tell me what you've been trying to tell me. What have I been running from?"

He curls her tighter against him, hand rubbing in a constant pattern over her back, arms, legs, through her hair. He runs through the conversation in his mind for the thousandth time. Has prepared it, rehearsed it over and over each time he'd sought her out. But now that it's time for the delivery it all seems too much. Unnecessary words that could never capture the depth of his feeling. "I love you," he says simply.

Oh. Well, then. "What about Marian and Roland?" she asks because she has to. She has to know that choosing her won't destroy him.

"Roland loves you too," he says needlessly. "Marian has a lot of adjusting to do and none of this is fair to her, but I can't help how I feel. I'd be living a lie if I went back to her pretending like the last years haven't happened." She doesn't respond and Robin chooses to believe it's because she can't, because the cold has consumed her and not that she won't let him back in. So he holds her. And he waits.

…

The spell is leaving her, her fingertips burn wildly, frostbitten digits plunged into hot water, but the constant shudder has been replaced by the faintest shiver and the numbness in her limbs gives way to the pinpricks of blood flow. Regina moves the instant she knows she can. She's on her knees before him a hand on each cheek, thumbs rubbing at the stubble there. It doesn't feel the same as when Marian had touched him so. Hers was familiar; Regina's is home. "You love me?" she asks, her voice cracking, but no longer from the cold.

"My heart and soul are yours, milady," he leans into the fraction of space between them and places a soft kiss against her lips. "I only hope that you're still willing to entrust them to a common thief."

"You still can't steal what's been given to you, what's always been yours." She kisses him again, gentle at first, then more deeply. The hands at her hips move to her hair and he holds her to him, has no intention of ever letting her go again.

* * *

 **So I've wanted to write this FOREVER. The scene where Regina is rubbing her hands always bothered me. I always wanted more, but could never find fic on it. (Please please please link me if you know of any.) Tonight it just all came out in one go and I'm actually really pleased with it. It always puzzles me how sometimes your muse cheers you on, but most times it just sits on the other end of the couch and laughs at you. Aaaanyway…Thanks for reading. I hope you enjoyed it.**


	28. Wishful Thinking

**Very mildly spoilerish for the two second shot of Regina for season 7. Mistakes are my own, no beta.**

"Let me guess, whiskey neat?" She doesn't even need to turn around to know it's him. She's good at her job. Damn good. Best bartender in Seattle, thank you very much. And she prides herself on knowing her customers drinks on sight even if they don't know them themselves. He's different though. There's something about him that she can't place, a familiarity she feels in her bones. That, and he smells amazing. She'd asked him what it was that he wore one night as she leaned over the bar top get a proper whiff and he had blushed (honest to goodness blushed) and confessed that it was just him. He smelled like forest, like the dream she always had of racing through the woods on horseback with rain clouds ready to burst overhead, chasing something she couldn't see and laughing. Always laughing. But she's never been deep in the woods, certainly never been on a horse, and the dream always fades away with the sunrise.

He flashes his dimples at her as he takes his drink from her hands, fingers lingering just a little longer than necessary. "Have we met before, Gina?"

"Every Tuesday and Thursday around 8:23," she laughs, checking the clock. He's right on time.

He tips his drink to her and chuckles at his own predictability. "You have me there, but I mean before. Before I wandered in to your fine establishment? There's just something so familiar about you."

"I doubt I'd ever forget meeting you," she tosses him a wink, tries to anyway, she can never seem to get that other eye to stay open and he finds it utterly adorable. She's moves down the bar to her next customer and he watches her deftly flip bottle after bottle, creating whatever concoction the woman ordered and sips his whiskey. She's stunning. There's no denying that. And he's not ashamed to admit that he stares a little too hard when she's not looking (and sometimes when she is.) But there's something off about the soft waves of her hair, the denim that she's poured herself into, all that jewelry. It's too much and not enough at the same time and for the life of him he can't figure out why it bothers him so much. "Another?" she asks breaking his concentration. She has an evil glint in her eye that lets him know that she's definitely caught him staring this time. She never seems to mind though.

"How do you do it?" He takes his empty glass, flips it around in a miserable attempt to imitate her.

"Magic," she wiggles her fingers before pouring him another round. "These hands wield great power," she tells him matter-of-factly.

"That they do," he reaches across the bar and takes her hand in his. He doesn't know why he's doing this now, touching her after all the nights he's wanted to do so much more than hold her hand, but the timing feels right and she's not pulling away so he lets his thumb trace her knuckles until duty calls.

…

She makes the drink with lightning speed, but when she turns back he's gone, an empty glass on top of a $20 the only sign he'd ever been there at all. She shakes her head, shakes the thought of him and what could be away. She knows nothing about him save his drink of choice. He probably has a wife (although she's never seen a ring, not that she was looking) and a kid, or he's a criminal, or a kind, loving guy with eyes the color of the ocean and dimples she wants to kiss, and strong, gentle hands that make her heart hammer in her chest every time their fingers brush… "Get it together, Gina," she says out loud, pocketing his money and making her way through the line of the bar.

…

He walks back in just before she's about to lock the door. "We're closed," she yells to the familiar chime and wraps her fingers around the gun she keeps under the counter. He walks to her slowly, arms out and open as if he somehow knew she was ready for a fight. She relaxes slightly at the site of him, but doesn't let her guard down just yet. "We're closed, Robin," she repeats, softening further when he leans against the bar; he's close to her, but not threatening.

"I was hoping to buy you a drink," he slips a bit climbing into the stool, hoping that his nervousness is being played off as casual.

"In my bar?" she raises an eyebrow at him and goes back to stacking glasses. He's nervous, practically shaking. She doesn't think she'll have to shoot him tonight.

"We could go to another," he offers too quickly, his eagerness making her smile.

"Its last call everywhere," she points out, cocking her head to the clock on the wall.

"Ah. Another time then." He slides off of the stool, bows dramatically, and heads toward the door. He's three steps from walking out of her life when she pulls him back in.

"Your drink choice is boring me. How about I make you something other than your usual?" When Robin turns around she's waving an unlabeled bottle at him and grabbing two glasses. "Lock the door," she tells him as she comes out from behind the bar and sets them up at a table in the corner.

"Apples?" he asks as the liquor hits his tongue. He tastes the familiar burn of whiskey, cinnamon, cloves, but there's something behind it all, something sweet.

"Secret family recipe," she smiles, bringing her own drink to her lips.

"You should sell this," Robin finishes his glass and reaches for the bottle to pour another.

"I am. You did say you wanted to buy me a drink," she laughs. He always manages to make her laugh.

"I did indeed, M'lady. And I am a man of my word," Robin makes a show of looking for his wallet, but she's not really paying attention. It was such an odd thing to call her, _m'lady_ , like she was some fairytale maiden. She's been called everything in her business—baby mostly (which made her cringe)—but never m'lady. She likes it. If feel oddly natural.

..

They finish the bottle fairly quickly, the empty bar full with their small talk and laughter. She's the one staring now: his eyes, his chest, his lips. She's been staring at his lips for quite a while. "We probably should just see if this something between us is really _something_ , wouldn't you agree?" She startles at that and he's smiling, those damn dimples pulling her closer and closer until her nose bumps his.

"What if it's bad?" she whispers against him, liquor laying her insecurities bare. It would be easier not to know than to have this pull be ruined. Wouldn't it?

"I can't imagine it would be," he tips his head back to look in her eyes, traces his fingers along her jaw before burying them in her hair. "Besides, something tells me you're quite a good kisser," he teases, pulling her back to him, closer, closer, until she closes the gap, fisting his jacket as she crashes their lips together.

Then the world explodes.

 _There's a blinding white light that comes from within her and all around her. Everything is out of focus, yet suddenly crystal clear. She's in the forest, riding hard with raindrops stinging her face and she's laughing, laughing as the trees clear to a lake. She's jumping from her horse, soaked to the bone and completely uncaring as he pulls her into his arms and kisses her in the rain. Robin. Robin's laughing as they dance clumsily in the wet grass. Then she blinks and it's another dance, another time. Camelot. And she's laughing in his arms, then she's crying, screaming, begging, and there's blood so much blood. And his arms around her again, safe, soothing, holding her through the endless nightmare of the Underworld. And futures. And always. And Hades. Hades and death. Her death. It should have been hers. Robin on the floor and she's screaming again, crying again, begging again, but there's no more second chances. Arrows on casket and a grief and empty._

"Regina!" he's yelling in her face, one hand still in her hair, the other shaking her shoulder. "Regina open your eyes." He has to see her. He has to know that this is real, that they've managed to find each other yet again. It came back in a rush, all the pieces he's been trying to force back together for years: His life, his "death", this strange in-between. Robin has a thousand questions, but in this moment there is only this, only her.

"No." She bolts out of the chair, sending it skitting backwards and tumbling to the floor, almost tripping over it as she backs away from him. "No," she repeats over and over, step by step until her back hits the wall. She lets her knees buckle as she slides down to the linoleum.

Robin stays glued to his chair. She remembers, he can see it in her eyes; it's definitely his Regina that had stared back at him, that had backed away from him. "Regina," he says softly as he gets up, rights her chair and slides down the wall next to her. He's inches away, but knows better than to touch. "Regina," he says again, waits another moment with her head buried in her knees and repeats.

"Stop calling me that!" she yells, pushing off the wall and stomping behind the bar. She grabs the first bottle she sees and drinks deep.

"It's your name, M'lady. I know you remember. I can see it; I can see _you_." Robin puts his hands on her shoulders, but she shrugs him off.

"My name is Gina. I own a bar in Seattle. I—"

"—am a queen, and a mayor, and a mother, and my soulmate."

"No." She drinks again, slamming the bottle into the bar. She won't look at him, can't.

"Why not?" he's behind her, as close as he can be without touching. He can feel the warmth of her skin in the space between them; he can feel the fear coming off of her in waves.

"Because you died! Over and over you died!" Her hand slaps against the wood until she knocks the bottle to the ground, tosses another. "My son is gone! My family is gone! _Regina_ destroys everything. _Regina_ is poison." She's near hysterical now, throwing anything she can get her hands on, covering the floor with liquor and glass. " _Gina_ makes a good martini," she stares at the glass in her hand, flips the stem through her fingers before letting it fall to the floor with the others, "and the world will keep spinning when she disappears. You can't hurt anyone if there's no one to hurt." She slumps against the bar, the fight leaving her as quickly as it came.

"No," Robin says once she's still long enough that he knows she'll listen. "I need you. I need _Regina_ , not some damn martini _._ I need _you_ to help me figure out what the hell happened to us. I need _Regina_ to help me find my children and my friends. I need _Regina_ because I love her and I don't give a damn how many times we stop and start I will love _you_ forever. Always."

"I can't lose you again. I can't lose anyone again," her lips barely move as she lets truth be heard. She has a white knuckled grip on the edge of the counter, breathing slowly, deeply, willing herself not to cry, willing herself to forget. His hand covers hers, nothing more than resting on top, but it destroys the fortress she'd been trying to build. One sob breaks through, then another, the third shaking her so badly he grabs her hip to steady her. On the fourth she's in his arms, holding on for dear life as he buries his face in her neck and lets his tears mix with her own.

He wants to tell her that she'll never know loss again, to assure her that this is it, they've suffered enough, but part of him knows that's not very likely to be true. As much as he hates it, she seems meant to suffer. But there are those moments, those beautiful moments in between that make up for all the pain. "We'll find them," he promises, gently kissing the salt from her skin. "We'll find each other. We always do, Regina." He feels her nod against his chest, thinks briefly that he likes her out of those towering heals, likes her all tucked up against him. "I'll admit, the searching is getting a bit tiresome," she laughs through her tears, shoulders shaking with it and Robin takes pride in the fact that after everything, he can still make her laugh. "There is no one I would rather search the realms for than you," he presses another kiss into her hair, holds her for another moment until she's wiping her eyes and unwinding her arms from him.

Robin reaches for her the moment she lets go. The inches between them are just too far for his liking. His fingers find home in her hair, his other hand on her hip. She leans in til their foreheads are pressed together. This is what she'd been missing, the elusive piece she couldn't place; this is home. They take another long minute just to stare each other, to take it all in and remember before Regina breaks the silence. "Okay, Thief," she says with a smile as the words fall easily from her lips, "Let's go find our family."

* * *

 **I know its never going to happen, but a girl can dream.**


	29. First Day Jitters

**I've been an absolutely horrible updater lately. I sincerely apologize and I'm hoping OQ Prompt week makes me want to finish all my stories.**

 **134 - Regina has a hard time with Roland's first day of school**

* * *

She watches them from doorway. Roland has been up before dawn unable to contain his excitement to one room any longer. He's dressed in the outfit she'd help him pick out the night before. His Batman back pack loaded down with pencils, notebooks, and a stuffed monkey he still isn't ready to part with. There's a half empty plate of waffles and bacon in front of him as he talks excitedly to Robin with syrup dripping down his chin. Robin wipes away the sticky mess moments before it ruins the official First Day of School outfit. It's only then that Robin catches her eye and she forces a watery smile. Roland whispers into his father's ear, suddenly serious, and Robin's eyes dart back her way again, before he's rising from his stool at the kitchen island and making his way to her side.

"Roland would like to know why you are sneaking?" he raises his eyebrows and flashes his dimples before wrapping his arm around her shoulders and kissing her cheek.

"Was I that obvious?" she leans her head against his chest, soaking up his warmth.

"I believe it was the sniffling that gave you away," he presses his lips to her temple, lets his arms coast up and down her side. He knows she needs a moment to get herself together before greeting Roland, so he holds her gently and lets her be.

"Do you think he's ready? Regina whispers as they both watch Roland unpack and repack his bag, no doubt trying to figure out how to get the remainder of his waffles inside.

"I'm certain of it," Robin assures her, draping his arms across her hips and nuzzling into her neck. "The time you've spent reading with him, he'll surely be top of the class before the day is out."

She blushes at that. Snow had told her that Roland was likely at a higher reading level, but hearing from Robin that he she's responsible for that makes her heart swell with pride. But she's still not ready for this day. There's more to school than reading, Robin. What if he doesn't make friends?"

"Regina." He gives her a look that clearly says she knows their child as well as he and that Roland will come home with at least 6 new best friends. "What is this really about? And don't tell me it's nothing," he silences her before she can start.

"It's nothing that can't wait until after breakfast," she pulls away from him, plasters a smile on her face, and greets Roland with a kiss to the top of his head.

.

.

.

He's so small climbing up into the bus. Regina's heart clenches in her chest when he turns back and waves with the brightest smile she's every scene. Robin's hand tightens its hold around hers and he doesn't let go until the bus disappears around the corner.

"When Henry started school…" Regina starts, but the words welled up inside her refusing to break free. Robin brings her hand to his lips, kisses each knuckle before guiding her back into the house. "Everything started to change when Henry started school" she tells him when they're back inside and he's placed a fresh cup of coffee into her hand. "I was his whole world and then I wasn't. He started questioning everything, everyone. He pulled away and he saw me as a monster and-" She can't say the rest, can't relive the terror of her baby running off to find his 'real' mother, of him walking out of her life as if everything suddenly became nothing at all.

His arms envelope her shaking shoulders and pull her tightly to his chest. "Regina," he soothes into her hair, the way he whispers her name is always a balm to her battered heart. "Roland will never see you that way. He adores you." She nods against him, wanting nothing more than to have the faith in herself that he has in her.

"So did Henry," her breath shutters out against his neck.

"Listen to me," Robin pulls her away enough to wipe away her tears and force her eyes to meet his. "The moment Roland met you, he saw you decked out in full Evil Queen mode," he buried his fingers in her hair, added "feathers and all," and got the desired chuckle from the woman in his arms. "He saw magic fly from your hands. He saw you fight over and over in the Enchanted Forest and he crawled in bed next to you, wanted you to tell him stories, show him magic tricks, be his mother. He's never been afraid of you, never thought you were a monster. And I'd be willing to wager Henry hasn't either."

"He hated me," she leans in, letting her forehead fall against his.

"He was upset and confused, Milady, but that young man has _never_ _hated_ you." He turns his head to buss her lips, tasting the salt from her drying tears.

"Thank you for saying that," she wraps her arms around his neck, pulling herself up to her toes to kiss his lips, lingering there in his hold until her demons are once again quiet. "Are you sure he's going to be alright? We could go up to the school and-"

"Regina, we are not going to the school." He kisses her once more before releasing her and picking up their discarded mugs. "We are going to sit here on this sofa and stare at the clock for the next 3 hours until he comes home." Robin does just that, places their mugs on the coffee table and settling in his corner before holding his arm out for her to join him. Her eyes dart between the security of his arms and a place to spy out the window until Roland returns. "Your coffee is getting cold," he teases her. It's the dimples that do it, finally melt her resolve and have her curling into his side. She reheats her coffee with a wave of her hand and rests her head against his steady beat of his heart. Two hours and 56 minutes to go.


	30. Midnight Snacks

**OQ Prompt Party #2**

 **197 – Midnight Snack (missing year)**

* * *

He notices it at the third evening's meal. She's barely touched her plate. The pheasant sits entirely untouched, potatoes have shifted around, but don't appear to have gone anywhere. Its only the vegetables that ever seem to get eaten and then he's not sure if she took them from the buffet in the first place. On the fifth he makes a point of passing by the head table on his way out of the dining hall, bidding his farewell to the Charmings, thanking Granny Lucas for another excellent meal, but when he gets to the queen he pauses.

"You're not eating, Your Majesty," he says low enough that it's only picked up by her ears, but he may as well have screamed it to the court.

Her eyes widen, cheeks redden, as she rises abruptly from the table. "Don't let it concern you," she spits out as she brushes past him, disappearing in her magic as soon as she's out of the hall.

But it does concern him. And as the days go on his concern turns to worry. He stops each evening to bid her goodnight, but doesn't mention her untouched plate. He's walking a thin line with her; one suspended over a sea of hungry sharks ready to devour him whole if he falters in either direction. She doesn't appear ill, doesn't carry quite the same desperate sadness she had that first evening they'd spent together, but still something isn't right.

The queen is on his mind again as he creeps into the kitchens to find the mint John requested for the stew he's preparing at the camp. She's on his mind more than he'd like to admit. "I wouldn't let Granny Lucas catch you pilfering her spice cabinet, if I were you. She'll likely count each leaf in the morning." Her voice comes from out of nowhere (he's not sure it wasn't in his head) and Robin turns twice before he sees the faint light in the corner. She's sitting at a table off to the side of the stove, covered in darkness except for the curl twirling absently through her fingers.

"Pardon the intrusion, Your Majesty, I didn't see you there," he approaches slowly, cautiously. He should leave her be, but part of being an outlaw is ignoring what _should_ be done.

"You weren't meant to," she forces annoyance into her voice as he reaches her side.

"Indeed," he comes closer still, pulling a chair from along the wall and sitting across from her at the small table. "And what, may I ask, is the punishment for eating her berry cobbler?"

"Certain death," she deadpans and for a moment Robin believes her until a devilish smile forms around her next bite. Regina adjusts the oil lamp on the table, extending its glow so that she can see his features and not just the tattoo she's been steadfastly ignoring. Robin stares. He stares often, unashamedly, blatantly, but he's never seen her like this. Her hair is down in loose waves that spill over her shoulders, corset and jewels traded in for a simple cotton tunic and pants. Her face is bare save for the blueberry smeared at the corner of her mouth. He reaches for her, asking a quiet _May I?_ that she doesn't refuse before thumbing the fruit away. He's taking her in and she lets him.

"May I ask you something?" he asks leaning back in his chair. His mission to the kitchen entirely forgotten.

"I'm not stopping you."

He waits a beat, gauging her, before he decides to throw caution to the wind and ask what has been on his mind. "Why don't you ever eat your meal with the others?"

She laughs at the absurdity of his concern, can't fathom why he cares so much about her untouched bread or too dry chicken. But then again, no one else had bothered to ask. "I'm sure it's not anything as interesting as your imagination has come up with."

"Then quell my rampant thoughts," he challenges her, leaning his elbows on the table, daring her to run away.

"I can't eat with all those people staring at me. And I certainly can't appreciate what I'm eating in a corset." She blurts it out and it sounds ridiculous; she's being absurd, petulant, all those horrid adjectives her mother and her husband associated with the crime of a woman enjoying a meal. She waits for him to laugh, to mock, but his eyes only look sad and is that guilt?

"I hardly think _everyone_ in the dining hall spends there time staring you," he tells her, his voice soft, apologetic.

"You obviously do. Don't think I don't notice the way you scrutinize everything I do." She's angry, more than that, she's hurt. This was her space, this quite kitchen in the dead of night where she could let her hair down and eat her fill of whatever Granny stashed aside for her. What right does he have to barge into her life and question her on anything?

She has him there. He thought his observations had been subtle, but it seems with her he lacks the tact that usually comes so naturally. "That is because I enjoy staring at you, regardless of the setting," he tells her honestly, hoping the admission will earn back the trust he's only beginning to gain. They stare at each other in the lamp light until the moment becomes almost too much. "Do you want me to turn around so you can finish?"

"You're serious aren't you?" The sincerity in his voice, in his eyes, shocks her.

"Of course. If it will make you more comfortable, Your Majesty I shall turn my back on you this instant and leave you to devour your midnight snack in solitude." He makes a dramatic show of turning around and finding something in the darkened kitchen to focus his attention on. She makes him wait a moment longer than is necessary before giving in.

"Turn around and help me finish this, Thief," she magics another fork as he turns back toward her, sliding the cobbler to the middle of the table as a peace offering he gladly accepts. Her dessert is finished in a comfortable silence. It's the most relaxed Regina has been since they were deposited back in this realm. She hates to break the bubble they've created, but the sun will be up soon and the kitchen staff just before it. They can't stay here much longer, but she's also not quite ready to leave. "What were you pilfering?" she asks as a way to break the silence.

"Oh," Robin looks surprised; he had genuinely forgotten what had brought him here this evening. "Mint," he laughs, "for a stew that has no doubt been eaten already."

"Stew?"

"It's tradition among the Men and I. John makes a fantastic stew of whatever game we happen to catch that day. A midnight snack, if you will."

"So that's what I smell at all hours of the night," she smiles and it pulls at her eyes, stretches the scar on her lip. She's often wandered what the aroma was, its driven her out of bed on more than one occasion, stomach growling and mouth watering only to find the kitchens empty and the ovens cold.

"You're more than welcome to join us," Robin offers. "I can guarantee no one will look up from their bowls long enough to stare at you."

"You think your Men would honestly welcome the Evil Queen into inner circle?" she scoffs.

"No, I don't," Robin confesses in all honesty. "But I'm certain they would find Regina very pleasant company."

She's smiling again, grinning really. How long has it been since she's smiled this easily? "I'll consider it," she gets up slowly, walking around the small table to place a hand on his shoulder. "Thank you, Robin."

"For interrupting your midnight snack?" he asks with a dimpled grin of his own.

"For caring." She squeezes his arm, lets her hand linger as she begins to walk away. He catches her fingers just before she's out of his reach.

"It's not a burden," she looks at him curiously until he adds, "caring for you. I find myself quite reluctant to stop."

She smiles again, almost shyly as she lets him hold her hand another moment, tries to memorize the feel of his fingers against hers, before eventually pulling away and making her way back to her rooms.

Two nights later, when the smell of simmering stew wakes her from a restless sleep, she hesitates only a moment before pulling on a sweater and poofing herself to the edge of the Merry Men's camp. There's a steaming bowl of stew in her hand before the smoke clears.


	31. Sounds of Love

**OQ Prompt Party 3 - #69 - Robin is used to sleeping in the forest and misses the sounds of the woods**

 **A/N: Alternate ending below the break. I'm sorry.**

* * *

It's her absolute favorite time of night. She's lying under satin sheets with the man she loves, exhausted in the best way. His fingers trace complicated patters along her spine, slip in and out of her hair. She's tucked into his side, head resting on his shoulder, neck occasionally stretching up to kiss along his stubbled jaw. Everything is silent save for their steady breath and the rhythmic beat of his heart against her ear. He yawns loudly, face contorting into something maniacal that has her laughing into his neck and him muttering apologies into her hair.

"Sleep," she tells him, pulling the covers up to her shoulders, just across his chest, and snuggling further into him.

"It's too bloody quiet," he mumbles, body tensing when he realizes he's said it aloud.

"You don't like the quiet?" Regina asks, suddenly wide awake.

"I like you," Robin offers quickly, never intending her to find out the reason for his sleepless nights.

"But you don't like the quiet." She's not willing to let this go. He's given her everything, given up everything for her. The very least she can do is make sure he's happy here. Happy here with her.

"It's just not what I'm used to," he relents. "I've lived most of my life in the woods. The sounds and smells of the forest were my lullaby. I just need to adjust to this way of sleeping. It's nothing for you to worry over."

"We could get something that makes noise," she's unwinding herself from her, groping for her cell phone in the dark. "They make devises that have crickets and…"

"Henry put that on my phone," he grabs her arm, pulling her back to him. "It's not the same. It loops after 12 seconds. Exactly twelve. It's not natural."

"You told Henry you were having trouble sleeping?" He hears the real question: you told Henry and not me.

"He caught me nodding off one evening before you got back from the office. I love you, Regina. And I love everything about my life here with you. My mind will adjust to the silence."

"Tell me about it." He raises his eyebrows and though she can't see his face in the darkness of their room she senses his question all the same. "The sounds of forest," Regina elaborates. "Tell me about them."

"You were there, Milady," he reminds with a playful smile. "You've heard them."

"But I didn't. Not the way you did. Tell me." She moves so that she's farther up on the pillow, props herself up on her elbow and stares down at him. She can only barely make out the outline of his features, but she lets her fingers trace his jaw, along his cheek, before settling at his temple and moving in steady circles through his hair. His eyes stay closed, letting her lull him into the memory. He never sees the magic winding through her fingers transforming his thoughts into something alive, if not yet tangible.

"There was this one night in particular that I was acutely aware of everything; every smell, every sound. I was lying with you under that apple tree in your garden. It was the first night that we…" he smiles at the memory and even in the dark she can see his dimples winking out.

"I remember," she smiles herself, leans down to kiss his forehead, all the while her magic works away.

"I remember the wind was blowing just enough to rustle the leaves. They made this noise that sounded so much of a spring rain I expected to get wet at any moment. There was this one lone cricket somewhere off to the right that kept rhythm with the way you were tracing your hand over my chest. I could smell the apples," he reaches for her hand that rests against his chest, kisses the back of it, before returning to its place above his heart, "although that may have been your skin." Regina knows she's blushing. She remembers the evening, remembers being there with him, but she doesn't remember it like this. Such vivid detail that even without her magic she's transported back to that evening. She thinks that maybe she should say something, add her own recollections to his, but he's start talking again and she contents herself to listen. "The stream wasn't moving like it normally does, that steady rush of water over rock. Everything was still but it made just enough noise to let me know that I was still awake, or that it was still there. That night may have been the most at peace I have ever been in my life. I try to go back there in my mind as often as possible and sometimes if I concentrate hard enough I can feel the grass against my toes, the blanket against my skin, your hair tangled between my fingers."

He's quiet after that, and after a few moments Regina shifts back down beside him, adjusting until they're both covered and content. "I'm sorry you don't have that here," she says softly.

"I've the best parts," he tells her, raking his fingers through her locks. "And I'll always have the memory." He leans down, places a kiss to the top of her head and lets his mind drift back to the forest.

This night it's Regina's turn to go without sleep, but it's a sacrifice she gladly makes. She waits until he's softly snoring and then 5 minutes more to make sure he won't wake before slipping out of bed and heading into Henry's room. He's at Emma's for the night so she can retrieve the box from the back of his closet without worry. It's small, fits snugly into the palm of her hand; a beautiful marbled walnut expertly carved by Marco's hand, engraved with an apple tree. The perfect vessel to hold a memory (and the gold band resting inside.) She sits on the edge of Henry's bed, opens the box, and releases her magic into it. When she's done the space around her fills with the sounds and smells Robin had so vividly described, vanishing when she closes the lid. She checks twice, opening and closing the lid until she's satisfied that the spell will hold before tiptoeing back to their bedroom, slipping the box under her pillow and resuming her place next to the man she loves.

She'll give it to him tomorrow night. They'll fall asleep surrounded by the memory of the love they share and promise to do so every night for the rest of their lives. Tonight will be the last that he feels uncomfortable in the silence of her home.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

They'd left for the underworld the next night and he never laid his next to her again. There's a small box on her bedside table that holds a memory and promise. A gift never given, a question never asked. Would you stay with me forever? Could we sleep in each other's arms each night with the memory of those other stars above us, the sounds of that other world around us? He would have said yes. She feels it in her soul. Each night she opens the box as her eyes close and drifts into a moment captured in time, feels his arms around her, his heart beneath her ear, feels love. She was loved.


	32. Breakfast

**Prompt Party Day 4**

 **Thank you for all the reviews!**

 **28 – OQ share a blanket,** **114 – Snow ships OQ**

* * *

They're leaving the hall after breakfast when Robin decides to take a chance. He'd spent another night with the queen in his bed and suffered through another morning of her steadfastly ignoring him. He hasn't minded (has, but hasn't said anything about it yet). He thought they'd turned a corner last night. Last night she came to him, crawled into his bed after other activities had taken place in hers. It hadn't been the first time they'd fallen asleep together, but it wasn't after those other activities had warn them out. She'd muttered something about being cold, about his blankets being warmer than hers (they're not he's certain) before snuggling into his side and sleeping until morning when she poofed herself away after he suggested heading to the kitchens together. He thought things had changed, that some knot around her heart had loosened and he could stop loving her in the shadows. If the way she purposefully walks around him now is any indication, he couldn't have been more wrong. Still, forever the optimist, Robin takes a chance and reaches for her fingers and she brushes past him.

She spins around, eyes wide with panic she tries to disguise with rage and pulls her hand away but he holds her tight. She sees the hurt in his eyes immediately. But she also sees all the other eyes on her, judging her, judging him. "Know your place, Thief," she sneers at him, biting hard to steady the tremble in her jaw. He releases her fingers with one last squeeze and Regina knows he's letting go of more than her hand.

"Apologies, Your Majesty," the emphasis on her title makes her flinch and he's glad for it. How dare she be so insulted as to be seen in public with him. "I thought I had," he whispers harshly as he walks past her, mixing with the rest of the castle's inhabitants as they head off to start the day. He heads to the gardens, needing to be alone, to kick and curse and berate himself for falling so deeply for someone that wanted nothing more than an unattached fuck. Someone so impossibly rude and cold hearted that she would continue to use him, to use his son, to make them both think that she'd had opened her heart when clearly there was no heart to open. Except none of that's true and that's what angers him most of all. He'd seen the fear in her eyes, the mask that she presents for everyone else barely being held in place. He'd heard the tremble in her voice even as it cut him down. He knows it wasn't her, but the her she feels she has to be. He loves her. And he hates her. And he doesn't know how to do both.

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Regina stomps off using her magic to clear a path to anywhere where there isn't anyone around. She ends up in the east library, seals the door, then slumps against it. She wants cry, wants scream, wants burn this place to the ground and may just do all three. Its better this way, she tries half-heartedly to convince herself, safer for them both with him out of her life. She only loses the people that get close to her, only hurts them. A book soars through the air crashing into the glass cabinet in the back, its contents scatter to the floor. She didn't want to hurt him, or embarrass him, but it would seem she's succeeded in doing both. Maybe it's for the best. Maybe now he'll see her for what she really is and he'll end this farce of a relationship because she isn't strong enough to do it herself. Another book, this time a sacrificed window. It had been simple at first. He was a distraction; a casual fuck when emotions ran high or tempers short. But it had changed so quickly, had become so much more. She misses him when he leaves (when she makes him go) so much so that she went to him last night. What was she thinking? She'd meant to keep him at arm's length and instead wrapped her arms around him. Of course he wanted more. She does to but it can't happen. The book shelf to her right gets a hard shove and an angry cry before it topples over. Something has to hurt as much as she is. She loves him and she hates herself for letting it happen.

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"She's in the East Library," Snow lowers herself onto the bench next to him. He hadn't heard her approach. Either he had truly been lost in his thoughts or her skills as a bandit lived up to her reputation. Either way, she's all smiles and pregnant belly as she stares at him, bumping her shoulder with his when he doesn't react right away. "I heard the sound of glass breaking and the doors were sealed shut. Both telltale signs that Regina's around."

"Forgive my bluntness, Your Highness," Robin doesn't look up from the stone he's been staring at for the last hour as his thoughts have run rampant "but why are you telling me this?" He doesn't want to talk about Regina right now. Especially not with Snow White. He's been warned of her hope speeches and constant meddling from the very woman he's trying to avoid and he'd very much like to be left in peace, but she doesn't seem to be going away anytime soon.

"Drop the formalities, Robin," Snow squeezes his knee until he looks at her. "And drop the act. I know you care about her. I've seen the way you look at her and the way she very carefully doesn't look at you."

"She's a beautiful woman; a man tends to admire a beautiful woman," he tells her, still hoping she'll leave him be.

"The fairest of them all," Snow laughs to herself, rolls her eyes when she realizes the reference is completely lost on someone who's never heard of Disney and goes back to the reason she's waddled herself through the castle in search of these fools. "I know what I see. And there's more there than attraction."

"Yes, well, whatever you saw or didn't see is irrelevant. She's made her choice and I mine." Robin lets his head fall to his hands. Was this really it? Was this what he wanted? Now that he's heard the words in his own voice he's no longer sure.

"That's crap," Snow says, still sitting at his side with no intention of moving.

"Excuse me?" Robin raises his head. He hadn't expected her to be quite so blunt.

"That's crap," Snow repeats. "Regina is the most stubborn person I have ever met in my life. She can be cruel and heartless and cold, but she's more than that. She's kind, and funny, resilient, and lonely, and scared, and she pushes everyone away before they can leave her, before they can hurt her. And maybe I shouldn't be telling you any of this-"

"Why are you telling me this?" Robin interrupts, because he can't stand to hear anymore.

"Because I want you to push back!" she shoves him hard enough that he almost falls over. "Don't let her do this, don't let her ruin something _good_ that's finally come into her life. You love her. Deny it all you want, but you wouldn't be out her sulking and she wouldn't be in there breaking things if whatever you two have wasn't worth fighting for. Go fight! She's worth it." Snow leaves him with an exasperated sigh and a frustrated shake of her head, mumbling something under her breath that he doesn't quite catch but can only assume is a reference to is idiocy. He hates that she's right.

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Robin goes first to the library, she's not there and there's not a book out of place. The perks of magic, he supposes. He stops at her rooms next, the gardens, the kitchens, she's nowhere to be found. There's a panic that sets in that he should have gone to her sooner, that she's up and left the safety of the castle, done some harm to herself. He rushes to the last place he has to look, the last place he expects her to be. The air rushes out of his lungs in sweet relief when he sees her sitting in the middle of his bed, blanket is wrapped snuggly around her.

"I'm sorry," her voice is raw, eyes red and swollen although she's no longer crying.

"As am I," he moves toward her slowly, afraid she'll disappear on him again.

"Don't be. You didn't do anything wrong I just…I can't…"

"Why?" he sits next to her on the bed, close but not yet touching.

"I don't know," Regina studies the blanket, bunches it in her fists.

"Yes you do," Robin challenges, moving inches closer. "Talk to me. It's just us here. Talk to me."

"I don't know how to do this. Us. Together. I don't know how to be with someone. I loved Daniel, but we were so young and that's all I had, that's all there was, I never had…No one's ever just held hand. And you—you come along and it's so right and it's easy and it just fits and I feel things that I didn't think were possible for someone like me to feel and it scares the hell out of me because I don't know what I'm going to do when it stops." She takes a deep shaking breath, it's out now, no taking it back. He's still her, still next to her. As far as she can tell the world hasn't stopped at her confession and she's not sure what to make of that.

"Why do you think it's going to stop?" he reaches for her, worms his hand inside the blanket until he finds hers and holds tight. "Regina, I love you. I'm not going anywhere no matter how many bloody times you push me away. I thought you were gone. I couldn't find you anywhere and I thought that you'd left, or that you'd used that godforsaken sleeping curse and I couldn't breathe. You can be scared of this, it's okay, but I'm not."

"I don't want to ruin you," she finally looks at him, open, exposed, raw, and never more beautiful.

"I'm afraid you already have, Milady," he smiles brightly, kisses her palm. "I'm completely besotted."

"Robin," she starts, but he doesn't let her finish.

"Regina, I don't want to hide this. I don't want to steel kisses in the shadows and leave your bed before dawn. I want to walk the halls holding your hand and give everyone something to stare at until it becomes old news. I want us to be normal and boring and wake up together under the same blankets."

"I want that too," she smiles softly, unwrapping herself and sliding over til she pressed into him.

"I know," he kisses forehead, lies down pulling her with him.

"I love you too," she tells him as her magic turns out the lamp.

"I know," his fingers card through her hair, lulling them both to sleep.

"Robin," she whispers, fighting against the pull of slumber, getting only a quiet _Hmmm_ from him in response. "Will you have breakfast with me?"


	33. Fighting Monsters

**OQ Prompt Week 5 (This is the best week ever. Thank you soooo much for organizing it.)**

 **164 – Roland tells Regina he is scared that someone will take his papa away.**

 **Set immediately after The Price.**

* * *

"The monster came out of the sky. It was black and scary and had long arms that looked like the branches I was carrying to help Papa keep the new people warm. Then the monster grabbed Papa and went flying through the trees. I was really scared and I dropped all the firewood. I shouldn't' have done that. I should have been braver. Gina came running really fast, faster than even Henry can run and she yelled at a bunch of people, but I don't know what she said cause she was hugging me real tight and when she put me down she was running really fast again into the woods. Granny held my hand after Gina went away. She's really nice and she smells like pancakes all the time. She stayed with me the whole day and wouldn't let me go help Gina look for Papa. I could have helped. I would have been brave and ranned really fast too.

When Prince David picked me up it was already dark and probably past bedtime, but he didn't say I had to go to bed. He brought me home and said that Papa and Gina were okay, but they were really sleepy. I think he told a lie because Papa is really white and Gina has a big bruise on her face and she's walking funny. Papa says sometimes it's okay to tell little lies like how when we was in the castle and we wouldn't tell Gina that we ate all her cookies. So maybe it's okay Prince David told a little lie."

She's watching from the doorway as Roland tells his Monkey everything that's happened today in his loud child whisper. She's about 4 hours past exhausted and sore as hell, but her eyes won't close. She almost lost Robin today, almost lost herself, but it's the gnawing uncertainty that she should have lost him in Camelot that had her tossing and turning and eventually pacing the halls leaving Robin to sleep and recover. She hadn't thought about Roland, about what he must have seen, how scared he must have been. She only knew that the old wolf would protect him and that she had to save his father. When she tucked him in hours ago, mussed his curs and kissed his cheek she should have noticed, should have talked to him instead of leaving him to confess his fears to a toy. Another thing she's failed at today.

She taps on the door frame softly and Roland jumps too high, clutches his monkey too tightly, and her heart aches even more. Her little knight is terrified. "Roland, can I come in?" she asks softly already entering the room. He's crawling in her lap before she's fully sat down. "Do you want to talk about what happened today? I'm so sorry I left you alone."

"You had to go save Papa. It's okay," he nuzzles into her chest, tries his best not to cry. He's too big to cry, but sometimes he still wants to.

Something in Regina breaks. Forgiveness granted so easily from the child in her arms as tears running down her face and soaking into his curls. "But I should have taken care of you too. It's what grownups are supposed to do and I'm sorry I didn't do that today."

"Granny let me have 2 milkshakes," he tells her softly as he plays with the hem of her t-shirt.

"Good. You deserved them for being so brave," Regina runs her hands up and down his back, wiping her eyes between passes.

"I was really scared," his little voice breaks and she holds him even tighter, rocking until he's calmed down again.

"I was really scared too," she tells him. She was. Terrified, no point in denying that.

"But you ran after the monster! You're not scared of anything." Roland sits up straight and stares at her, unbelieving that his majesty that throws fire could be scared like him.

"I'm scared of lots of things Roland. Losing your Papa or you or Henry, that scares me so much sometimes I can't sleep." Most times, she thinks and can't really remember a time when she'd slept for more than a few hours without waking in a cold sweat.

"Really?"

"Really."

"Are you still scared?" he whispers, suddenly shy again and looking away from her.

"I am. I'm always a little bit scared. But your Papa is back and he's safe and snoring right down the hall."

"He snores real loud sometimes," Roland scrunches up his nose remembering many nights he had to sleep in their tent with his head under a pillow.

"Yes he does," Regina laughs at his bluntness, "but that's okay because that means he's sleeping good and he needs his rest to get better."

"I'm scared someone bad will take him again," he whispers even more quietly and pulls himself closer to her.

She wants to promise him that that will never happen, that she'll never let it, but she can't bring herself to lie to this child that saved her form herself. Their lives are chaos and so uncertain; she knows she'll fight with everything she has to keep him safe, but there's that chance, that fear that keeps her up at night, that someday it won't be enough. She has to say something. He's looking at her with those big brown shiny eyes asking nothing more than for her to make it better. "Do you want to know how I got Papa back from the monster?" she asks and he nods quickly, scooting in her lap so his legs straddle her waist and he can look at her without twisting his neck around. "It was using bad magic to try to take him away and I yelled at it and told it to take me instead." Roland's little eyes go even wider and he squeezes her arms, but Regina continues quickly. "Before it could, Snow grabbed onto my hand and then David did too, and King Arthur, and even Leroy. They all held on to me and the monster couldn't take us all so it had to go away."

Roland's quiet for a moment, creating the scene in his mind. "Even Leroy?" he asks. "But he's always mean to you." Regina can't help but laugh at that. Her boy is very observant.

"He is, but today he helped me. He took me to the doctor AND he helped me save your Papa. What I want you to remember, Roland is that there are lots of people that love us and we will all help keep each other safe from monsters. No matter what."

"Okay," he yawns, settling a little heavier into her arms, excepting her words as gospel in a way that only children can. "Gina, can I sleep with you and Papa tonight just in case the monster comes back?"

"I think that's a wonderful idea," she wraps her arms under him and takes him with her as she stands. Her ribs scream in protest, but she'll deal with that later. When she gets back to the bedroom Robin lifts his head and pulls the blankets back for her. Roland scurries to his usual space between and Regina sinks into the mattress letting him pull the duvet back over the three of them.

"Everything okay?" he asks groggily.

"Just fine. We just wanted to stay together tonight in case the monsters come back." She wants to turn into his arms, to let him hold her, but Roland has already rightfully claimed that position, flung himself across Robin's chest and passed out before Regina could find a comfortable position to lie in. It doesn't stop Robin from reaching for her though, from winding their fingers and brushing his thumb over her hand until the monsters finally let her sleep.


	34. Confessions

**OQ Prompt Party 6. These all worked really well together (I hope).**

 **172\. Missing year. Drunk Regina confesses her attraction to Robin.**

 **173\. Robin gets drunk and tells John he thinks he's falling in love with the evil queen.**

 **Bonus 162. Regina's hair is curly and Robin likes it.**

* * *

The Charmings threw another ball. No surprise there. The royal fools looked for any excuse to celebrate. At least there was always wine and this time Leroy's moonshine that (although she'll never admit) was really quite good. It was sweet, with spice and smoke and she'd had more than a few glasses as she watched Snow float around the room celebrating her swelling stomach. She was happy for them deep down. They deserved this. And the smile she gives Snow when the princess catches her eye isn't nearly as forced as she would expect it to be.

"I think I am the only sober person in the castle tonight. Leroy's moonshine seems to pack quite the punch." Snow sits uninvited but not unwelcome in the empty chair next to Regina. "Robin Hood is staring at you again. He does that a lot, you know."

"I hadn't noticed." The queen doesn't even look up from the half empty glass in her hand. She'd noticed, warned him to stop, but her thief's as stubborn as her and unaffected by her empty threats.

"Of course you haven't," Snow scoots closer, taking Regina's glass form her hand and setting it just out of reach. "Would it be such a bad thing to admit that you find him attractive? He seems to be a great guy who is obviously interested in you and his son already thinks you hung the moon." Regina finally looked up, fixing the princess with her best why-are-you-still-speaking glare, but like everyone who knows her, Snow brushes off the annoyance. "Go flirt with a good looking guy. Let him buy you a drink, although maybe on a night when you haven't already had a few."

"Snow, it is really none of your business who I'm sleeping with." Regina's eyes go as wide as her stepdaughters. Did she just say that? Why on earth did she say that? And to Snow of all people! She's going to kill the hobbit, incinerate him on the spot for getting her drunk and loosening her tongue.

"Regina are you in a relationship?"

 _Absolutely not. Gods! only Snow would go from casual sex to marriage in 3 seconds flat._ "Maybe. I don't know." _Stop taking! Stop stop stop!_

"Oh my god! You're in love! You are! Regina, you're blushing! You're in love with Robin Hood!" Snow was giddy, practically bursting with excitement as she clapped her hands together and brought them to cover a smile that couldn't be contained.

"Will you keep your voice down," Regina pulled her back to the table, silencing her with a harsh whisper but nothing can remove the beaming smile from Snow's face.

"How long have you been together?" she leans in even closer eagerly awaiting all the gossip and fully prepared to take advantage of Regina's inebriated state to get at it.

 _None of your damn business and we're not even together._ "A few months, more than a few." She looks over her shoulder, catches Robin unabashedly staring at her and melts into the blissful feeling the sight of him brings.

There are so many emotions playing across Regina's face that Snow doesn't even know where to begin to decipher them. There's a soft, secret smile playing at her lips, but she bites at the lower nervously. Her eyes dart everywhere except to Robin or herself and there's fear there. Whether that's brought on by her feelings or the fact that Snow will once again tell her secrets remains a mystery. Snow scans the ballroom, most of the guest have left for the evening or are too far gone to remember where they were supposed to go. Charming is dancing badly by himself, Robin and John occupy a table at the other end of the room. For all intents and purposes they're alone. She takes Regina's hand, squeezes slightly and asks, "Tell me everything?"

 _No. Stop talking. Don't trust her._ But the words are already coming and maybe it's best that she can't control them, maybe its best the part of her mind that locks her way shuts the hell up. "It just started. For a few weeks it was just scratching an itch, just casual, but I don't think…maybe it wasn't…maybe it was always something more. I don't know. And I hate not knowing. It scares the hell out of me." She doesn't realize how tightly she's squeezing Snow's hand in return until she feels the younger woman's fingers flex in her palm. She relaxes, but doesn't let go. "Why am I telling _you_ any of this?" Regina laughs and the question hangs between them. So much history, so much misunderstood pain on both of their parts, but they still seem to find themselves together.

"Because you want to. Because you're happy and you want someone to know. And maybe because despite everything we're family and you know that I'm happy for you." Snow pats her stepmother's hand before getting up from the table. She still wants all the juicy details, but can see that Regina's not there yet. She's just starting to get her back and will not push her away by pushing her too far.

"Maybe," concedes with a sincere smile.

"Don't be scared," Snow squeezes her shoulder as she goes to retrieve her husband. "I'm pretty sure he feels exactly the same way. He's still staring." She winks as the blush once again rises in Regina's cheeks.

.

.

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"If you stare at her any harder you might go blind, Robin." John sits heavily, scarping the chair against the stone floor as he places another round of drinks between them. As far as balls went, this one wasn't so bad. He'd had more than his share of the buffet, danced with a beautiful girl, and had sampled Leroy's fine brewing talents. He'd been ready to head back to their rooms when he saw Robin sitting alone, staring a hole into the queen's exposed back.

"Do you know that her hair is curly?" Robin asks his friend as he picks up the mug without moving his gaze. "Of course you don't. It's as wild as yours. She must spend hours getting it all smooth and piled up like that. Or maybe she does her thing."

"Her thing?" John leans back, props his feet up on the table and shakes his head and the state of the man next to him. Robin flicks his wrist and snaps his fingers badly imitating the conjuring of magic and it has John laughing into his ale. "Ahh, that thing."

"It looks so beautiful down and untamed and with all that paint off you wouldn't believe how stunning she is."

"Robin, I said before that it was none of my business who you spend your evenings with, but mate you're talking like a love struck youth." John had known about his friend's arrangement from the start, after that first night Robin had slipped a sleeping Roland into his tent and snuck off with a dopey grin on his face. He'd cautioned him about it, about her and the reputation that came with, but had been ignored. Robin was a grown man; he could handle himself against the charms of the queen, but John hadn't anticipated this. "Oh bloody hell!" he said a little too loudly, sitting forward and jarring the table. "You're in _love_ with the Evil Queen!"

"I am in love with Regina Mills," Robin corrects, poking John in the chest to emphasize his point. "Hopelessly, desperately in love." Is he? Has he even thought that this dalliance was love? He knew it was more than casual sex, but love? What on earth is in this drink that has him confessing things he wasn't even consciously aware of?

"I think I might be ill," John covers his mouth and clutches at his stomach, laughter shaking his large frame. His friend is done for and it's about damn time. "When did it change? When did you go from knockin' hips to this?" he asks once he's recovered and able to look at Robin's confused expression without dissolving into hysterics again.

"It was never just about the sex. Although that is great. Really really great," he winks to which John only rolls his eyes. "She's just…she's more. We have this connection and I trust her and, she loves Roland, and, yeah, I love her." Robin looks back to where Regina sits with Snow. The princess is leaving, whispering something secret into the queen's ear and then fixing her gaze on Robin.

"I think you might be in trouble," John gets up, downs the rest of his drink and backs away from the table. For all the sweetness and constant hope Snow White radiates, he knows she's a beast ready to pounce on anyone that hurts those she loves.

Snow walks through the hall, grabs David by the arm and guides him through the tables and remaining party goers. She slows when she reaches Robin, smiling her sweetest smile and telling him "If you hurt her I'll have you exiled from the kingdom," in the most matter-of-fact way Robin has ever heard.

He mumbles something along the lines of "Yes, your highness," but doesn't get it out before the Charmings are out the door. John claps him on the back, laughter once again unrestrained as he too disappears down the long corridor. Regina's gone. He doesn't know when she made her escape, must have snuck out the other door during the seconds he wasn't looking. He's suddenly the only one left in the expansive hall. The silence is deafening. He can hear his heart pounding in his ears. He's in love with Regina. Why on earth hadn't he figured this out before?

.

.

.

Robin lets himself into her chambers, she hasn't even bothered to lock the door. Not many people venture to this wing of the castle, even fewer dare to disturb her. She's already in bed, face washed clean, hair hanging lose and draping over her shoulder. She's wearing his shirt; the neck line delectably revealing on her giving him a view of her bare shoulder and fair bit of unassisted cleavage. Glassy eyes that surely match his own greet him warmly as he sheds his boots and shirts and climbs in beside her. They fit perfectly with her head nestling into his shoulder, his fingers tangling in her hair.

"I think I told John that I'm in love with you," he stretches his neck to land a kiss on top of her head. The alcohol is still making everything pleasantly fuzzy, making confessing truths a little easier.

She's quiet at first, still except for the lazy patters her fingers trace across his chest. It's hits her all of a sudden how casually 'un-casual' this is, how natural it feels to just be laying in his arms without the lust-filled preamble, how she's really not afraid at all. She reaches across his chest for his hand, links their fingers and brings them to rest above his heart. As sleep begins to pull her under she mutters softly, "I think I told Snow I love you too."


	35. Sounds of Silence Revisited

_For Fix It Day One_

 _I've already written at least 5 ways that either didn't kill Robin in his last scene or brought him back shortly after and I couldn't think of anything else that I wanted to do. So I'm doing a Fix It on my own fic that I did for OQ Prompt Party (See chap 31) that a lot of people seemed to like, but hated the ending where Robin died._

 _Also, Peanut is named Ella in all of my other fics so Ella she shall remain._

 _So, without further rambling or ado…Sounds of Love Part 2_

* * *

The soft click or the door closing echos through the room. Regina slumps against the wood letting her forehead rest against the cool surface. She's tired. Actually, she was tired days ago when they first set off for the Underworld and now that they're back she's…well she's going to sleep right up against this door. Robin looks back when he realizes she's no longer walking next to him. The sight that greets him breaks his heart. Her face is pressed up against the door, eyes shut, forehead creased. They've been going non-stop for weeks. The last time he knows she's slept for more than a few fleeting moments was the night before they left. Neither of them could have imagined the chaos they were about to be thrown into.

She'd bore the brunt of it down there. Had dealt with more emotionally in a matter of days than most could process in a lifetime, and then there had been the nightmares. He's no stranger to her torment, knows how to sooth often without waking her up, where to touch, where not to. She would have been fine if they'd been alone. Unfortunately, sharing a loft with 5 other people made that impossible. She'd been restless their first night there, hadn't slept a wink. The next day she'd curled into the corner of the couch at Snow's insistence that she rest only to be shaken awake by her step-daughter when she started to whimper in her sleep. Robin had barely managed to pull Snow to the side before Regina lashed out. Thank god she didn't' have magic there or his chest would have worn much worse than a bruise. He held her tight against him as she fought, whispered assurances of safety and his love into her ear until she was fully awake. Then the embarrassment hit. She buried her face in Robin's shoulder to muffle the cries she couldn't control, clung to him to still the trembling of her body. He shielded the best he could, told her over and over that it was just him and her, but she knew they saw. It was in all of their eyes: a pity that she didn't want and didn't deserve. Her sins were hers; she owned them; tended to them on her own way.

That was the last time she'd even attempted sleep, and by Robin's count it was at least 6 days ago. How she'd made it through dinner and managed to tuck Roland in and rock Ella to sleep is completely beyond him. "Only a few more feet, M'lady," Robin's arm wraps around her waist, pulling her back against his chest and walking them to her side of the bed. She covers his hands with her own and lets her head fall back onto his shoulder. Part of her still can't believe that they made it through. They got back from hell (undead pirate in tow), Hades had been destroyed and they had 3 children tucked in down her once empty hall. Is this what life was supposed to feel like? She wonders as she lets him lower her to the bed, pulling off her sweater as he does so. Can they simply go to sleep after everything they've endured and wake up tomorrow to coffee and pancakes and routine that will become blissfully dull and ordinary?

She hopes so. Gods above does she hope so. And maybe she'd done enough good, freed enough souls to let her believe she was worthy of it. Regina looks up to find him staring down at her with that grin that tells her he knows she lost in her thoughts, but that he'll just wander in after her.

She's been zoned out long enough that he's rid himself of his shirts and jeans and changed into sleep pants. She runs her hand up to his chest, rests them against the bruises she'd caused. "You're sure you're okay?" She has to ask again even though she's asked a hundred times. Ran seeking hands and probing magic over him again and again and always came to the same conclusion: he's alive. He's still here.

"Fine love," he murmurs against her forehead as he reaches down to help her wiggle out of her trousers. He'd stepped in front of her. Damnit all she would live. She would raise his children and he had been confident in his choice even though he's only had a heartbeats time to make it.

"I still can't believe that you did that. You shouldn't have survived. That spell...it shouldn't have worked. I'm not that strong. I-" she's trembling again thinking back only a few hours to when she had readied herself to die, to join those lost souls in the Underworld, but Robin had other plans. He stepped in front of her, shielding her from the path of Hades' weapon. She saw the creases in the worn leather of his jacket, the flecks of grey running through his hair, the loose threads on the scarf he wore. Every detail.

She didn't think; she still has no idea where the spell came from but it had burst through her every pore surrounding them in blinding light. Robin had turned to her, intent for her face to be the last thing he saw, but she was lost to him in the light. He reached for her blindly, fingers brushing the wool of her coat. He grabbed on tightly, felt her hand wrap around his forearm and then he was being pulled toward her, pushed down until he felt the basket that held his daughter and bent himself over it.

It felt like time froze. Maybe it had, she'll never be sure. When the light dimmed her sister was standing in the middle of the room. The Olympian Crystal was in her hand, pulsing at both ends; the God of the Underworld was on his knees before her. Regina backed up until she bumped into Robin, searching for his hand without looking away from her sister. "Keep your promise," Zelena yelled, still looking at Hades, but Regina knew she was talking to her. "Keep her safe. Love her." The crystal started to crackle and pulse. Zelena took a second to look her sister in the eye. "Now get out!"

Regina trusted her in that moment like she'd never trusted anyone before. There was a certainty in her sister's brief stare; she knew what she was doing, was ready to do it. Her last thought before she latched on to Robin and Ella and whisked them away was that she hoped Zelena was able to find some peace.

"You're thinking about Zelena," the bed dips as Robin sits next to her. She leans against his shoulder, pulls his hands into her lap.

"I don't know if I ever would have been able to forgive her for what she did to us, what she did to you. I guess I'll never know." She feels the tears forming, gathering at her lashes; she won't open her eyes to let them fall. She's not ready to cry for her sister yet, but hopes that someday she will be. They'd loved each other once. Regina thought maybe there was a chance they could get to that place again, but she's gone now-sacrificed to save the ones she tried to destroy. _She will be loved; she will be safe_ , she silently promises whatever spirit of Zelena that remains of the daughter she hadn't planned for, but that has already secured a place in her heart.

"She did the right thing in the end; she saved us all. I have to believe that counts for something." Robin feels her nod against his shoulder. He cranes his neck to get a look at her face. Her eyes are closed, mouth slightly open, and her hands have gone lax against his. "Come here," he pulls his hands from her lap, scoops an arm under her knees and settles her against the pillows. She _Mmmm's_ out a groan when he pulls away, grabbing his shoulders and pulling him back to her. He laughs against her neck, crawls over her to his side of the bed and pulls the duvet over them both. Regina rolls into his arms. They don't normally sleep wrapped up in each other, but tonight she has no intention of letting him go. "We're home," he whispers to her, lips brushing against her hair, "sleep."

"It's quiet," she tells him, lips vibrating against his neck. There'd been so much noise lately: screams, and explosions, crying babies and crackling portals. She'd almost forgotten what quiet was.

"I never thought I'd miss the silence," Robin muses, tracing patters up and down her arm.

"Oh!" Regina lurches out of his hold, throws back the blanket and tosses her pillow to the end of the bed.

Robin reaches for the light, asks "What's going on?" as he sits up to face her. She's kneeling on the mattress, a small box in her hand.

"I got this for you. I was going to give it you, but then we left and I can't believe I forgot, I-" her head drops and she stares at the object in her hand, shaking her head slowly at her absentmindedness.

"You've been a bit busy, love," Robin reaches for her face, tipping it back up to him. She nods against his hand.

"You're my future too," Regina turns the box over and over in her hand, not breaking Robin's gaze. "I was sure before, but after everything we've just been through...I want you to feel at home here and I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

"Regina." It's all he can say as she places the box in his hand.

"Will you marry me?" she's smiling nervously as she hands him the box. His fingers slip from her hair, as he takes the gift from her, running his fingertips over the ornate carving.

As he slowly opens the lid, their bedroom transforms with the sounds of the Enchanted Forest as soon as he fully extends the hinge. "How on earth?" he looks around expecting to see her apple tree at the end of the bed, a river running through her wardrobe. He doesn't even notice the ring at first, enamored as he is in the world she's created for him. It rattles to the side when he tips the box looking for the source of the magical sound around him.

She sees the recognition in his eyes immediately. Finding it had been her and Henry's latest operation, his grandfather's ring that miraculously came over with the first curse and had spent decades in a cabinet drawer in Gold's shop. He rolls it between thumb and forefinger, squeezes his eyes shut tight against the prickling of tears. "Robin," Regina whispers, "this is where you say something."

His gaze flits from the ring to her own expectant eyes, "I can't believe you did this. I've been waiting for the right time for ages and you've gone and made everything perfect." She looks scared to death, bottom lip trembling. He hasn't given her an answer he realizes in an instant, blurting out a "Yes! Of course!" that's entirely too loud for an intimate moment in the middle of the night, but it won't be contained.

"Good," she laughs as she takes the ring from him and slips it onto his finger. "Now we can go back to sleep." Regina smiles bright enough to light up hell itself as she kisses him back into the pillows. Robin shifts and settles with her splayed across his chest-discarded pillow entirely unnecessary.

"You're a marvel," he smiles softly, newly adorned fingers running sleepily through her hair. He waits for her to say something, to likely disagree, but she's already asleep atop of him with a faint smile on her face. He holds her tighter, closes his eyes and lets the sounds of the forest soothe him. The last thought before sleep final claims him is of the ring stashed away in the back or Roland's closet and how foolish he was for waiting. Any silent moment would have been perfect.


	36. Better Than Fine - OQ Fix It Week 2

_Fix It Week Day 2: The baby situation_

 _I took the prompt of Roland not adjusting well to his sister and jumped of into all sorts of angsty things._

 _Unpopular opinion: I actually like Peanut, just not the way they handled it._

* * *

"I don't like you," Roland whispers as he walks quickly past the bassinet in the living room, grabbing a pillow from the couch and quickly walking back with another hushed "I don't want you here."

Henry is slouched on the end of the couch with his face hidden in a comic and an earbud in one ear, enjoying a Saturday with absolutely nothing to do but catch up on some Marvel and keep an eye on Roland to make sure he doesn't use the 'good pillows' to make his fort-as if his mother had bad pillows.

"I wish you would go away," Roland grumbles a little louder this time as he waits by the couch for Henry to lift his legs and free the pillow beneath. "I wish you never ever came," he tells his sister plainly as she squeaks and stretches out her chubby arms.

"That's not very nice, you know," Henry lifts his legs but doesn't look away from his book.

"I don't care. I mean it. I hate her." Roland looks around instantly for his parents, listens for a reprimand, but they're in the kitchen and Henry really doesn't seem to mind. He knows he shouldn't have said that though. Hate is a very serious word. Maybe he doesn't hate her, but he really doesn't like her.

"She hasn't really done anything yet," Henry peeks over his book to see their newest family member lying contentedly. "She doesn't even cry all that much. Not like Neal; he cries ALL the time."

"She makes Gina cry," Roland mumbles, taking his last pillow and adding it to the roof of his fortress before crawling in. His brother watches him for a moment, then looks back to make sure Robin and Regina are still occupied with dinner before he lays on the floor, wiggles in head and shoulders and starts poking at Roland's slumped shoulders.

"What did you say that?" Henry asks, waiting patiently for Roland to wiggle himself around without knocking down walls. He's usually pretty attuned to his mother's moods, but this time he hadn't noticed a thing. She's seemed happy; happier than he's seen her in a good long while.

"Gina is sad because she's here. I heard her crying when I was sneaking toys out of her room. She said 'What am I going to do with you?' She doesn't want her here either so she should just go live somewhere else."

Roland isn't quiet, he doesn't realize that the walls he created to hide his secrets are only fabric and feathers. Henry's sure at least one of their parents heard that. He doesn't know what to say. How do you explain to a 5 year old the tangled mess that is their family tree? "She's our sister, Ro, she can't just go away. She belongs with us."

"We was fine before she got here," the younger boy explains and his brother tries not to laugh at the simplicity of the explanation.

"You know, Roland, for a long time it was just mom and me. And we were fine too. But then you and your dad came along and we're better than fine. We still love each other, but we love you guys too. Our family got bigger. And now Ella's here and we got a little bigger, but that just means we can be better than better than fine." He can tell Roland is considering it, can practically see the gears working behind his big brown eyes.

"She still made Gina sad."

Right. That. He doesn't know what that's all about or if Roland even saw what he says he saw. It's something he'll talk to her about. Maybe. Maybe Robin. But what Roland needs to know right now is that "Sometimes grown ups cry. Especially girls," he whispers loudly, tickling the younger boys ribs. "I bet mom was just really tired because Ella likes to be awake all night. I know she would be really sad if she were gone."

That seems to do it, Roland will put up with just about anything (including a red-headed little sister he doesn't want) to keep his majesty from being sad. "I guess she can stay. But I still don't think I like her."

"You'll change your mind someday," Henry reaches up, musses his curls and then scoops him out of the pillows. "Come on little brother, if you want to make a proper fort you have to use the cushions in the den." He dangles a squealing Roland upside down from his shoulder, grabs a couple of the larger pillows and heads toward the back of the house.

Robin stands in the doorway to the kitchen, arms folded across his chest, giving Henry a silent nod and a mouthed "Thank you," as the pair walk by.

Henry only winks, shrugs, but levels Robin with a pointed look that clearly says 'fix it' before he disappears into the den with Roland, shutting the door behind them.

"You've raised an incredible young man," Robin says as Regina's arms wrap around him from behind. He takes her hands in his, holds them tight against his chest as he feels her rest her head between his shoulder blades. "Is that true?" he asks when she finally pulls away.

"I didn't know he was in the room," she confesses quietly even though they are completely alone. "He's as sneaky as his father."

"Regina, why didn't you wake me if you were upset?" He walks her back into the kitchen where they sit at the island. It's barely a moment passed before she's wiping at tears that fall relentlessly. _Not now_ , she scolds herself over and over, _I can't do this now_.

Robin hops off the stool and pulls her in, tucking her head under his chin and rocking them back and forth. "What's going on, love. Talk to me," his voice is low, breath warm against her ear.

"It's nothing," she tries to pull herself together, but her voice is thick with tears that wet his shoulder.

"It's obviously something. You can tell me. I know you didn't ask for any of this, but-"

Whatever else he had intended to say was abruptly cut off by her, "No, I didn't." She regrets it as soon as the words are out, as soon as she sees the flash of confusion in his eyes, of pain there and remorse. She regrets it, but it's out now and she might as well keep going. "You never asked me. And I know you never signed up for any of this either, that what she did to you, how she deceived you to hurt me...I know it's partially my fault." He opens his mouth to interrupt her because he will not have her taking the blame for her sister's cruelty, but she stops him with a hand to his cheek. "Please let me say this," she begs and he nods silently for her to continue. "When I found you in New York there was this instant hope that we could just come home, that you and Roland would just come back and everything would be the way it was. But she was pregnant and I had to accept that there was going to be this child that I could never share with you, but I knew we had time to talk, time to plan and everything could be okay. Then she came so early and she's perfect and she has your eyes and her hair and I barely got a second to think about what this little girl was going to be to me before Zelena went and got herself killed and now I have a daughter that's going to grow up to look like my sister who wanted to destroy me so badly that she used the people I love to do it, but she gave us this precious baby that I LOVE and that I want to protect and I don't know what I'm saying or what I want you to say. I'm just tired of hurting and hoping. I'm tired of being afraid that she'll hate me, that one day she'll look at me and know that I'm not her real mother, that I'm responsible for _her_ death and…"

Robin can't listen to anymore. She was breaking, shattering before him in their kitchen. How had his son noticed and he hadn't? How had he never realized that all the times she was fine she was anything but. He's turned her upside down and he fears he wasn't holding her tightly enough to keep her from falling. "Stop. Please, Regina, stop. YOU are her mother. It's what I wanted before this whole fiasco started: a family with you; a house full of children to raise and love with you. It's what Zelena wanted in the end. She sacrificed herself so her daughter could have a life of safety and of love-love that she knew you would give her. You are not responsible for your sister's death. You can tell her that the woman that gave birth to her made a lot of really horrible choices and hurt a lot of people, but she did right by her daughter. She gave her to the one person she knew would love her for whoever she turns out to be, who will understand her magic, her temper, her father's obsessive overprotectiveness." He gets a laugh out of her at that. It's tear soaked and tired, but it's a laugh nonetheless. "I'm so sorry." He kisses her forehead, wipes the remaining wetness from her cheeks before tipping her face up to kiss her lips.

Her arms wrap around him again and she pulls him close, resting her head against his chest, letting his hands coast up and down her back, in and out of her hair. "I love you," she tells him and is answered instantly by his And I you. It settles something in her, lets her melt just that much more into his embrace. "I'm tired and I don't want to cook dinner." As if on cue, Ella wails from the other room. There's no preamble with this one; she wants what she wants when she wants it. (She is a Mills woman after all.) Regina tucks her face back into Robin's neck, but this time she's laughing, shoulders shaking under his palms.

"Bottle or pizza?" he asks, reluctantly stepping away from her embrace.

"I've got her," Regina's already got the milk warming before Robin can remember what drawer the pizza menu is in.

"Are we okay?" he asks as he watches her pick up their daughter, settling her easily and slipping the bottle into her searching mouth.

"Better than fine," Regina settles into the armchair as Robin orders their dinner. She lets her eyes close to the sounds of Ella eagerly eating in her arms, of the boys laughing in the other room, of Robin cleaning up what they had started cooking in the kitchen. "Better than better than fine."


	37. One Two Three

_Snippet from before the Camelot. Fix It Day 5_

He's watching her from the doorway, leaning silently against the frame as she stomps and twirls in a pastel dress, that while exquisite, is a costume on his strong-willed and stunning queen.

One-Two-Three. One-Two-Three. Stop. Sigh. Start.

One-Two-Three. One-Two-Three. Stop. Throw something. Start.

One-Two-Three. One-Two-Three. Stop. Scream. "Robin."

His name comes out as a sigh, weak and tired, but she can't bring herself to be bothered to put on airs with him. Fingers reach out to trace her jaw and she melts into his touch, lets his hand cradle her face.

"You look beautiful, Milady," he runs his thumb over her cheekbone, slips fingers into her hair loosening the bun at her nape, "If not a bit frustrated."

Throwing her hands up in the air, Regina turns away from him facing the mirror she'd been practicing into. "I just spent the last 2 hours with David learning how not to make a fool out of myself and it's like I've forgotten anything. I can't do this! Why can't I do this?" She's close to tears; angry, frustrated, tears that she absolutely will not let fall.

Robin grabs her hands and wraps them around his neck, moving his own to her back and pulling her against his chest. "First of all, there is nothing you can't do," he kisses her forehead before taking one of her hands in his. "Second, dancing, especially a waltz, is nearly impossible to do alone." He doesn't move yet, just holds her against him and lets her breathe.

"It's not just the dance," she says quietly, hating to admit defeat even to him.

"I know," he says simply, letting his forehead rest against hers and beginning a slow, steady sway she barely notices.

"I knew this wasn't going to be easy. I knew we couldn't just come here, wave a wand and get Emma back, but I—"

"—was prepared to fight a battle, not go to a ball," he finishes for her, knowing her battles aren't fought with gowns, but with fire.

"Yeah." Her head rests against his shoulder

"So don't think of tonight as a battle," he steps her back, left, turn, and then holds her again. "Look at it as gathering intel on our potential adversaries."

"And if I fall on my face while I'm gathering intel?" she asks with a raised eyebrow, even as he spins her and effortlessly returns her to his hold.

"I'll never let you fall, Milady." Robin kisses her again, quick and chaste as he guides her by the waist. One-Two-Three. One-Two-Three. His smile goes wide, dimples deep as he tells her, "Regina, you're dancing."


	38. Sooner

_For OQ Fix It Day 6_

 _Not going to lie, I love this. Hopefully you'll love it as well. ;)_

 _(Forgot to change Robin's name in the first half, my bad. All better)_

* * *

Roni likes her whiskey. He's noticed the many nights he visits here spending more time staring at her than the papers he's supposed to be grading. It's nothing overt, nothing that would alarm him (although he's pretty sure bartenders aren't supposed to drink behind the bar, he also reasons that her name is on the building and she can do whatever the hell she damn well pleases.) Tonight is different though. Tonight she's not slowly sipping from a two finger neat or throwing back a shot in a celebratory toast; tonight it's Jameson straight from the bottle she keeps reaching for under the bar. Tonight she's well on her way to drunk.

There's one other table of patrons in the opposite corner. Some hipsters that look barely old enough to be allowed in here and he pauses only a moment before casually walking over to them and offering to pay their tab in exchange for their hasty exit. Hipster One gives him the questioning eyebrow, but Hipster Two has his own theories cocking his head not so subtly towards Roni and jabbing Hipster One in the ribs. Let them think he's about to get laid if it'll get them out of here sooner, Robert thinks, so he plays along, smiles and winks and just like that Two and Three are pulling One out the door, but not before given Robert a congratulatory pat on the back. To be young again, he shakes his head as he watches them slink out into the night. He should probably lock the door, but it's late. He's been here at this time of night enough times to know that no one is going to wander in that hasn't already been.

"Chasing away my customers now, Professor?" Roni questions as he approaches the bar. She reaches for her bottle again, takes another swig and leaves it on the counter. No point in trying to conceal it any longer, there's no one here but him and she's been watching him watch her all night.

"I thought perhaps you would prefer to drink alone." He takes a stool, pulling out is wallet and laying a credit card on the counter to pay for himself and the Hipsters Three.

"I would," she pushes the plastic back to him, grabs her bottle and walks out from behind the bar. The room is tilting and she knows she's veering right but can't seem to correct it. Making it to the door nonetheless, she pulls it open with a grunt and tells him to "Get out."

"Not yet," he turns on the stool to face her, leaning back against the bar. "What's going on with you, Roni?"

"Nothing that's any of your business," she mumbles as she shuts the door against the cold night air that is killing her buzz and turns the locks. If he won't leave he'll have to spend the night.

"You've listened to me bitch and moan plenty. Hell, you've listened to the woes of everyone in this city; I'm offering to listen to you for one night. Something is obviously bothering you." They stare silently at each other for a moment, Roni clutching the door knob in one hand and the neck of the bottle in the other. Robert waits her out. He's a patient man, this literature professor that covers her corner booth with papers and pens every Tuesday and Thursday night, she knows he'll wait out her stubborn streak.

"I'm not talking," she says flatly after the silence between them begins to stretch into awkwardness. "I'm drinking. You may drink with me." She slides into the booth he previously occupied, sets her bottle down on some idealistic freshman's account of the feminist rebellion of Hester Prynne, and stares him down. She waits for him to admonish her, give her a lecture on etiquette and decorum and all those other things that stodgy professor's value. Instead he reaches over the bar, grabs a rocks and slips back in the booth across from her.

She pours until he taps the table, barely a double shot but that just means there's more for her. "That one wasn't so bad," he says, fingers drumming over the term paper turned coaster. "She's a bright kid, that one. If you want something to soak up the spill I recommend Jason Allen," he lifts the bottle, removes the paper to the safety of his briefcase and replaces it with another. "I'm entirely certain the lazy tosser didn't even read the summary on the back of the book before writing this rubbish 10 minutes before it was due." He gets half a smile out of her for that and if Jason Allen accomplishes nothing else this semester he might just pass the kid on that alone.

Roni stares at the paper, reads around the bottle at its center and is certain it's not blocking any content whatsoever. It really is awful; he didn't even spell the character's name properly and it's such a shame. It hurts her and she wonders where on earth this boy's mother is that would let him slack off on his life like this. The misspelled words are blurring together and Robert has a finger hooked under her chin and a thumb wiping at tears she didn't realize she was crying. He's just holding her face, looking at her without staring, without judging. The whiskey's swirling in her head is matching the pain swirling in her heart and before she even considers breaking her vow of silence she hears her trembling voice tell him, "It's my son's birthday."

Her breath is warm as it shutters out against his hand. Shit. He feels like a complete ass. "I didn't know you had a son," he tells her, hoping she hears the apology there for all the nights he's complained to her about his ex-wife and their preposterous custody arrangement that's left him with one weekend a month and a fight every holiday.

"I do," she drinks again. "I don't know where he is, but I have him. _Had_ him," she corrects, drinking again and one more time before he's taking the bottle from her fingers and setting it to the side.

"What happened?" he asks, imagining the worst because she certainly wouldn't be forcing alcohol into her veins if it were a happy tale.

"He left," she shrugs, reaches for the bottle but stops herself halfway. Robert takes the hand frozen mid-reach and winds her fingers with his own, waiting for her to elaborate. "He left home the day he turned 18, said he needed get away from me so he could have a life—screamed it actually. I wasn't in a good place then, wasn't nearly the mother he deserved. I was young when I had him, too young. And too selfish. I don't blame him for leaving, but I-" She pulls her hand from his, grabs the bottle and takes another long drink. "But I miss him."

"Have you tried to find him?" he asks, regretting it immediately, but she doesn't look offended, just weary. His heart breaks for her. He doesn't see his boy nearly as much as he would like, but he knows where he is, knows where he sleeps, what kinds of food he likes, the music he listens to, gets a call or video chat at least once a week.

"Yeah, I have," she nods, letting him take her hand again. It's nice, warm and solid and the contact is keeping her from breaking apart. "I hired a P.I. and everything, three actually. They all told me the same thing: that he doesn't want to be found, that he probably changed his name and disappeared into some big city. I filed missing persons reports, checked police stations, death records," her eyes close at that; a silent thanks sent that those searches had all come up empty. "It's like he got sucked into another dimension. I don't even know if I'd recognize him if he walked through those doors." She turns then, stares at the doors as if waiting for some portal to open and her lost child to walk back into her life. But that's a fairytale and Roni had given up on her own happy ending years ago. She turns back to him, stares at their joined hands; they fit, hers cradled perfectly inside of his. "It's been 10 years since I've seen my son. So I'm drunk because it hurts less, but it still hurts."

There is absolutely nothing he can think of to say. The pain of not knowing must be unimaginable. He wonders how she manages to keep it together every other day. "I'm sorry," he tells her as he continues to hold her hand, thumb stroking over her knuckles, because what else is there to say?

"Me too," she wipes at the tears that have once again slipped free. "But that's life, right? Sometimes it's shit."

"That it is," he chuckles into his free hand. Leave it to her to sum it all up so eloquently. He thinks back to the many times he's laid his troubles bare at this bar to be met with a sympathetic ear, caring eyes, and a nonjudgmental smile. He'd always left in a better place than he came in and that was all because of her. And she'd been carrying this with her. He'd never thought to ask. What a complete arse. That changes tonight. "Can I help you home?" he offers. The raised eyebrow she gives as her answer lets him know she's not _that_ drunk. "I meant nothing other than not wishing you to fall to your death on those stairs, Roni. I'd hate to find somewhere else to avoid reading my students deplorable grammar if this place closes."

"I can't lock up with you in here," she offers quickly, too quickly. What did that even mean? Does she want him to stay? _Yes_ , she wants that very, very much. When did she go from wanting to be alone to not wanting to be _alone_ , she wonders. Roni wants him to stay, wants to curl up with him and let him hold her all night. Run his fingers through her hair, along her skin; recreate the patters he's painting on her palm. But that must me the liquor talking; the liquor and the loneliness and she'd hate herself in the morning, hate him as well.

She's an open book with her defenses dulled by drink. He can see the questions in her red-rimmed eyes, the internal debate in the way she bites her lower lip. There's no way he'd even consider taking her to bed tonight (another time perhaps when she's sober and not so desperately sad) so he squeezes her fingers and tells her "I'll lock up when I leave, bring your keys back by in the morning. Or midafternoon," he lifts the nearly empty bottle. Practiced drinker or not, she's in for a rough tomorrow.

He jars her out of her fantasy. Good. She needed out, needs to get herself together. "How do I know you're not secretly some thief in the night that is going to rob me blind? I don't even know your last name. How would I send the police in search of you?" she jokes, getting herself back on track, putting those walls back up.

"Because you trust me," he says matter-of-factly, "and because my very traceable credit card is still sitting on your bar top waiting to pay off my debts. Also, my last name is Sherwood, like the forest." He gathers up his papers and pens, tossing everything into the brief case. He leaves John Allen under the bottle. Maybe he'll claim he lost it, give the kid a second chance to earn a decent mark.

"Robert Sherwood, PhD," she says mockingly, but she likes the way it rolls off her tongue. "You were destined to be a literary professor. That has quite the ring to it."

"Since we're exchanging last names?" he still hasn't let go of her hand, has taken to toying with her fingers, absently tracing the lines of her palm.

"Miller," she gives an unenthusiastic shrug. "Nothing exotic or exciting there." She tips the bottle back; there's only a few drops left and she'll be damned if she wastes good liquor. It's bad business after all.

"Veronica Miller, no ostentatious letters, but the best bartender in town." He smiles at her as if knowing her name was some secret he'd hope to crack. It is, he supposes.

"Berenice," she corrects, cheeks flushing instantly at the confession, but then her expression shifts and she's trying to look sternly at him, but can't suppress the smile. "If you repeat that to anyone I will have you killed. My mother had several ostentatious letters after her name; none of which I lived up to. Naming me Veronica would have been too common."

His professorial brain kicks into gear tracing back names and meanings. They're the same basically, Veronica and Berenice, different cuts of the same cloth. "Bringer of victory and strong council," he slides out of the booth, offering his arm to help her stand. "Seems to me you live up to it just fine. However, I do think the nickname suits you much more than the original. We all find our own ways, don't we?" Roni lets herself he pulled up, colliding with him as her feet hit the floor. If he notices the stumble (he had to have noticed) he makes no mention of it, only holds her at the elbows until she finds her balance.

"I suppose we do," she wraps her arm around his waist, letting him take more of her weight than she'd like to admit. She's knows she's had too much to drink; the floor tips and turns with every step.

"Keys?" he asks as they make their way back towards the bar.

"Under the register."

He leans her against the banister as he retrieves her keys. If feels strange to be behind the bar, like he's invading her sacred space somehow, but she's staring at him with a smirk on her face and not looking the least bit put off by his intrusion. The stairs are shallow and open; a design feature that works great with the interior of her bar, but they're hell when too drunk to judge where the step should be. She stumbles twice, hiding her embarrassment in his shoulder before he turns her away, takes a firmer grip around her middle and mostly carries her up. She unlocks the door herself, taking keys from him as he stares dumfounded as to which one of the several on her ring she needs.

She doesn't invite him in and he doesn't ask to enter. His intentions had been true, just to offer a friendly ear and see her safely to her door. No matter how much he may want more from her, now isn't the time to push something they'd both regret. "Thank you, Robert," she says, placing a hand against his chest. "I didn't know how much I needed a friend tonight. It helped." She leans into him, arms wrapping tightly around his shoulders as she stretches up. He smells like pine and sandalwood; like the forest she used to take her son camping in before he was old enough to see her for what she was. Those were good times, the best she's had, and if she lingers against this man a little longer than she should to soak up some of that comfort who could really blame her?

He lets her hold, sooths his hand up and down her back in slow circles, leaves the other wrapped loosely around her middle. "If you ever want to talk about him, or about anything…"

"I will. Thank you. Truly." She reluctantly pulls away before she loses the willpower to walk into her apartment alone, reaches inside the door and retrieves a spare key. "To the back door," she explains, dropping the single key in his hand. "You can bring it back next time you need a quiet place to grade essays. Or sooner."

"Sleep well, Milady," he cups her cheek, bends down to place a barely there kiss against her forehead and heads down the stairs and out the back. Sooner, he thinks as he double checks the door to make sure she's secure inside. Definitely sooner.


End file.
